\y 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/" 


BY 
ARTHUR   G.    BENSON 

FELLOW  OF  MAGDALENE  COLLEGE 
CAMBRIDGE 

THE   UPTON   LETTERS 

FROM  A  COLLEGE 

WINDOW 

BESIDE  STILL  WATERS 
THE   ALTAR  FIRE 
THE     SCHOOLMASTER 
AT  LARGE 
THE  SILENT  ISLE 
JOHN  RUSKIN 
LEAVES  OF  THE  TREE 
CHILD  OF  THE  DAWN 
PAUL  THE  MINSTREL 

THY    ROD    AND    THY 

STAFF 

ALONG  THE  ROAD 
JOYOUS  GARD 
WATERSPRINGS 
WHERE  NO  FEAR  WAS 


THE 

Orchard   Pavilion 


BY 

ARTHUR  CHRISTOPHER  BENSON 

FELLOW   OF    MAGDALENE    COLLEGE,    CAMBRIDGE 


/uSXa  Trap  a  irpoBipoiffi  TeBoKora 
ow/xaros  ou  peydXiij 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Zbc    ttnicl^erbocfter    press 
1914 


Copyright,  1914 

BY 

ARTHUR    CHRISTOPHER    BENSON 


Ube  Itnicfccibochcr  preae,  Hew  Korh 


9R, 


THE  ORCHARD   PAVILION 


PREFACE 

Some  eminent  philosopher,  speaking  or 
writing  lately  about  the  war,  said  that  it 
had  already  produced  an  almost  refresh- 
ing sense  of  seriousness.  It  is  certainly 
serious  enough,  but  I  cannot  yet  admit 
the  sense  of  refreshment.  Indeed  with 
all  due  respect  I  would  submit — and  I 
believe  that  I  here  speak  for  many 
persons  beside  myself — that  I  have 
never  lived  through  any  period  in  the 
whole  course  of  my  life  so  sadly  or 
anxiously,  through  days  that  dragged 
so  slowly,  with  so  heavy  a  preoccupation 
for  ever  in  the  background,  and  with 
thoughts  so  tethered  to  one  melancholy 

iii 


Preface 

track  of  thought.  The  outlook  indeed 
of  an  elderly  non-combatant,  who  is  use- 
less from  the  military  point  of  view,  and 
indeed  has  only  practised  arts  and  ac- 
complishments of  peace,  who  thinks  that 
war  makes  havoc  of  men's  happiness 
without  even  settling  their  differences, 
who  mournfully  sees  an  ever-increasing 
number  of  friends  and  pupils  going  off 
gallantly  to  face  the  worst  risks,  and 
who  realises  too  that  the  old  easy  civili- 
sation of  Europe  is  being  weighed  in  the 
balances — such  an  outlook,  I  think,  can 
hardly  be  an  enlivening  one! 

Yet  I  do  not  deny  that  there  have 
been  gleams  of  light  and  consolation — 
the  sense  that  England  has  acted 
honourably  and  disinterestedly,  the 
heroic  and  ardent  conduct  of  our  forces, 
iv 


Preface 

the  sight  of  a  great  nation  so  firmly 
united  in  a  noble  cause,  the  entire 
absence  of  any  tendency  even  on  the 
part  of  those  who  have  suffered  most 
to  criticise  or  grumble  or  bemoan  their 
fate — this  has  all  been  deeply  inspiring, 
and  has  given  a  new  fervour  and  signi- 
ficance to  life. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  at  present  we 
have  had  to  bear  less  than  oiir  share  of 
sacrifice  and  humiliation,  that  our  ways 
of  life  are  little  demoralised,  that  the 
pain  of  loss  and  bereavement  and 
devastation  has  been  felt  far  more 
heavily  by  other  nations.  It  is  true. 
Yet  I  am  not  sure  that  the  pressure  of 
anxiety  and  anticipation  is  not  the  most 
wearing  pain  of  all.  In  my  own  private 
sorrows  and  tragedies  hitherto  this  has 

V 


Preface 

always  been  so.  The  mind,  as  Horace 
said,  ducii  opes  animiimque  fcrro,  draws 
resource  and  courage  from  the  stroke. 
I  remember  how  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his 
Diary  declared  that  when  the  heavy 
blow  of  bankruptcy  fell  upon  him  in  the 
full  tide  of  his  prosperity,  he  was  aston- 
ished to  find  how  little  it  hurt  him,  and 
that  enduring  it  and  meeting  it  was 
infinitely  less  unmanning  than  expecting 
and  dreading  it.  And  in  the  case  of 
some  of  our  Belgian  guests — who  in 
losing  everything  have  won  a  fame 
which  as  Job  says  "cannot  be  gotten  for 
gold" — I  have  seen  and  heard  with 
astonishment  and  admiration  how  tran- 
quilly and  gently  they  bear  their  troubles, 
and  with  what  touching  sweetness  they 
set  themselves  to  live  the  life  and  join 
vi 


Preface 

in  the  interests  of  a  strange  land.  I 
wish  I  could  think  that  I  should  bear 
such  grief  with  so  beautiful  a  sincerity 
and  patience! 

But  for  all  that  the  times  of  refresh- 
ment are  as  yet  far  off,  and  one  of  the 
sharpest  trials  of  these  portentous  days 
is  the  sense  of  uselessness  and  futility 
which  falls  upon  anyone  who  has  valued 
and  used  peace,  and  whose  only  function 
now  seems  to  be  to  help  to  contribute  to 
the  expenses  of  war,  out  of  resources 
which  the  war  seems  likely  to  sweep 
away.  And  yet  such  is  the  spirit  of  the 
race  to  which  I  am  proud  to  belong, 
that  never  for  an  instant  have  we  desired 
that  we  had  done  otherwise  or  regretted 
the  choice  we  have  made.  If  the  great 
spectre   of  coarse   tyranny  and    brutal 

vii 


Preface 

aggression  can  be  laid,  there  is  no  sacrifice 
that  we  would  not  gladly  and  eagerly 
make. 

This  little  book  was  designed  and 
executed  in  days  which  seem  divided  by 
a  deep  trench  of  tragic  experience  from 
the  days  in  which  we  are  living.  It  is 
not  written  in  the  key  which  I  should 
now  choose,  but  it  is  still,  I  believe, 
substantially  true,  and  I  could  not  and 
would  not  write  it  otherwise.  More- 
over it  was  all  printed  and  completed 
before  the  storm-cloud  had  appeared 
on  the  horizon,  and  though  I  have  long 
delayed  to  publish  it,  I  see  no  reason  why 
it  should  not  appear;  because  I  do  not 
think  that  it  is  wise  or  useful  to  confine 
the  thought  unintermittently  to  one 
dark  chamber  of  preoccupation — we 
viii 


Preface 

grow  morbid  so — and  I  have  myself  felt 
very  grateful  to  any  companionship  or 
talk  or  book  or  work  which  could  for  a 
little  divert  my  thoughts  from  their 
anxious  narrow  track.  We  may  thank- 
fully believe,  too,  that  man's  business 
is  after  all  the  business  of  peace,  and 
that  the  great  cruel  profitless  business 
of  war,  binding  its  biu*den  so  heavily  on 
the  weak  and  innocent,  claiming  such 
useless  and  unrewarding  toil  from  work- 
ers who  can  gain  nothing  from  the 
conflict,  whatever  its  issue  may  be, 
must  by  the  very  nature  of  things  be 
but  an  interruption  to  the  normal  course 
of  the  world,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
man  must  live  and  earn  his  livelihood, 
while  war  is  a  pure  waste  both  of  life 
and  sustenance. 

ix 


Preface 

And  therefore  I  think  that  the  Httle 
book,  which  is  serious  enough  for  all  its 
peaceful  setting,  had  better  tell  its  tale 
and  say  its  say.  For  there  are  few 
minds  that  are  even  capable  of  grap- 
pling with,  and  still  less  of  coordinating, 
the  frightful  and  ominous  problems 
which  this  great  catastrophe  arouses; 
while  there  are  many  minds  that  are 
sorely  perplexed  and  bewildered  by  all 
the  confusion  and  suffering  which  the 
ruthless  policy  and  selfish  ambition  of  a 
deeply  deluded  and  misled  nation  can 
inflict  on  innumerable  homes  and  lives. 
The  wisest  and  noblest  spirits  of  the 
time  must  trace,  if  they  can,  the  causes 
of  the  evil,  and  explain,  if  they  dare, 
what  wholesome  or  hopeful  meaning 
it  can  possibly  hold  for  humanity. 
X 


Preface 

Those  who  cannot  do  that  may  yet  try 
to  remind  the  distressed  and  bewildered 
that  in  spite  of  this  vast  convulsion  of 
violence,  and  behind  it,  there  yet 
remain  the  beautiful  and  hopeful  and 
peaceful  elements  of  life;  that  friendship 
and  natural  joy  and  leisure  and  health 
and  art  and  the  delights  of  life  are  not 
destroyed  by  war  and  tumult,  even  if 
they  be  for  a  time  eclipsed  and  shadowed ; 
and  indeed  that  one  of  the  issues  of 
all  this  misery,  and  perhaps  the  best 
issue,  may  be  that  the  nations  will  set 
their  hearts  more  firmly  and  unselfishly 
on  the  worthiest  kind  of  peace,  and  value 
it  more  deeply  for  all  the  anguish  of  the 
strife;  may  make  men  resolve  to  elimi- 
nate from  the  peace  they  had  so  long 
and  so  carelessly  enjoyed  the  baser  and 

xi 


Preface 

uglier  elements  of  greed  and  mistrust 
and  envy  and  hatred,  which  have  made 
so  fierce  and  heart-rending  a  tragedy 
possible. 

Though  the  spirit  ache  to  contemplate 
it,  we  have  our  duty  to  do  and  our 
chosen  task  to  perform!  We  must  not 
and  we  cannot  forget  that!  But  in  the 
sternest  and  most  unflinching  prosecu- 
tion of  it,  we  may  not  dare  to  forget  that 
we  shall  only,  if  we  succeed,  have 
stemmed  the  flood  of  oppression;  we 
have  got  to  make  a  better  and  a  truer 
kind  of  life  possible  hereafter.  It  is  not 
to  be  thought  of  that  Europe  shall  hence- 
forward be  only  a  land  of  camps  and 
fortresses.  That  would  be  the  bitterest 
outcome  of  all.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  can  learn  a  mutual  confidence, 
xii 


Preface 

a  wiser  tolerance,  a  more  active  goodwill, 
a  deeper  sense  of  the  unity  of  human 
life  and  human  aims,  then  we  may  win 
our  way  to  a  peace  such  as  the  world  has 
never  before  dared  to  dream  of. 


A.  C.  B. 


Magdalene  College,  Cambridge, 
November,  1914. 


xm 


The    Orcha^'d  Pavilion 


t 


PART  I 


It  was  the  pavilion  which  had  first 
attracted  Roderick  Armitage  to  the 
place;  he  had  caught  a  sight  of  its 
slender  stone  chimney,  with  the  queer 
pierced  ornament  at  the  top,  above  the 
flowering  apple-trees.  Roderick  had  a 
pleasant  taste  for  the  style  and  aspect 
of  houses,  and  saw  beauties  of  propor- 
tion and  material  where  many  people 
could  see  none.  It  was  in  one  of  his 
undergraduate  vacations,  and  he  was 
rambling  about  the  Cotswolds  alone — 
that  was  one  of  his  fancies.  The  farm 
— Sunset   was   its   charming   name — to 

3 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

which  the  pavilion  belonged,  stood  at 
the  end  of  the  village  of  Helmdon,  one 
of  those  bare  and  beautiful  little  hamlets 
of  stone  houses,  set  at  every  possible 
angle  on  the  banks  of  a  full  clear  stream 
of  water,  that  ran  brimming  under  low 
stone  bridges,  and  beneath  the  terrace- 
walls  of  little  gardens  full  of  gay  flowers, 
and  red-clustered  shrubs,  dripped  over 
by  soft  pads  of  white  and  purple  aubrie- 
tia,  and  trailing  toadflax.  The  valley 
itself  was  cold  of  aspect,  with  its  spare 
green  pastures  and  stone-piled  walls,  as 
it  folded  in  among  the  hills;  but  there 
was  a  rich  far-off  view  of  blue  tree- 
dotted  plains  and  faint  wolds.  Higher 
up  stood  Sunset  Farm,  a  substantial 
house  of  rich  orange  stone,  among 
solid  bams  and  granaries,  roofed  with 

4 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

heavy  stone-tiles,  and  surrounded  by 
elms  and  sycamores.  Roderick  had 
walked  in,  as  was  his  easy  custom,  to 
ask  if  he  might  look  at  the  pavilion; 
and  when  he  saw  it  from  the  farm- 
garden,  he  was  enchanted  by  it;  it  was 
built  on  low-crowned  arches,  and  the 
little  space  beneath  it  was  crowded 
with  farm-litter,  hurdles,  posts,  and  a 
tiimip-chopping  machine;  the  upper 
part  of  it  seemed  to  consist  of  one  big 
room  with  pedimented  windows,  all 
very  rococo  and  fanciful.  He  could  not 
conceive  how  the  dainty  little  building 
had  come  there.  The  old  good-natured 
farmer,  Mr.  Hickes,  had  come  up,  and 
had  told  him  that  it  was  the  only  part 
intact  of  a  great  house  which  had  once 
stood    there;    and   of   which    the   farm 

5 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

itself  was  a  mutilated  portion.  There 
had  been  another  similar  pavilion, 
further  down  the  orchard,  which  had 
become  ruinous,  and  had  been  taken 
down,  he  recollected,  when  he  was  a 
small  boy.  Mr.  Hickes  had  pointed 
out  to  him,  the  old  lines  of  grass-grown 
terraces  which  had  formed  the  garden; 
he  took  him  into  the  house,  and  showed 
him  the  big  fireplaces,  the  heavy  ceil- 
ings of  fine  plaster-work,  the  bits  of 
oak  panelling — then  he  had  taken  him 
to  the  pavilion;  there  was  a  little  stair- 
way which  led  down  from  the  upper 
chamber  into  the  orchard.  But  the 
room  into  which  he  presently  brought 
Roderick,  which  formed  the  whole  in- 
terior of  the  pavilion,  was  amazingly 
delightful.  It  had  a  coved  ceiling  of 
6 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

plaster,  with  some  traces  of  colouring 
still  lingering  on  the  clumsy  moulded 
grape-vine  with  which  it  was  ornament- 
ed. The  walls  had  been  frescoed,  and 
though  much  of  the  paint  had  peeled 
off,  there  were  dim  forms  of  heroes  and 
nymphs  still  visible.  There  was  a  solid 
oak  table  in  the  room,  and  some  wooden 
chairs.  It  all  seemed  in  good  enough 
repair,  and  the  antique  dim  glass  was 
still  in  the  windows.  The  place  took 
Roderick's  fancy  very  strangely;  and 
as  he  was  going  on  his  way,  the  farmer 
offered  him  a  glass  of  cider,  which  he 
gladly  accepted,  and  they  talked  a  little. 
He  told  the  old  man  that  he  was  an 
Oxford  undergraduate,  and  Mr.  Hickes 
said  rather  shyly  that  he  supposed  he 
did  not  know  of  any  yoimg  gentlemen 

7 


The  OrcJiard  Pavilion 

who  might  Hke  lodgings  in  the  summer — 
the  house  was  a  big  one,  and  they  were 
glad  to  take  in  as  many  as  three  lodgers, 
if  they  could  put  up  with  simple  food. 
Roderick  at  once  struck  a  bargain;  he 
and  two  of  his  friends  would,  he  was 
sure,  like  to  come  there  later  in  the 
summer.  He  was  shown  some  pleasant 
bare  clean  bedrooms — and  the  farmer 
went  on  to  say  that  if  they  liked  to  have 
the  use  of  the  paviHon  to  sit  in,  he  would 
have  it  swept  out,  and  some  chairs  put 
there — it  was  a  nice  cool  place  in  the 
summer  heat.  He  was  introduced  to 
the  farmer's  wife,  a  pleasant  bustling 
woman  a  good  deal  younger  than  her 
husband.  That  was  the  simple  pre- 
lude to  a  charming  adventure. 


8 


II 


They  arrived  there  in  a  hot  July. 
Roderick  had  found  his  friends  only  too 
ready  to  accompany  him.  They  had 
done  a  similar  thing  a  year  before,  but 
then  they  had  been  uncomfortable 
enough  in  a  frowsy  village  inn.  Mr. 
Hickes  met  them  at  the  little  wayside 
station  four  miles  away.  They  had 
piled  up  his  cart  with  their  luggage, 
and  had  bicycled  up.  It  was  a  time  of 
hot  clear  still  weather.  His  two  friends 
were  Harry  Knollys  and  Fred  Norman. 
The  three  had  been  at  Charterhouse 
together,  and  the  old  alliance  at  school 
had   been  kept   up  at   the   University. 

9 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

Roderick  himself  was  the  only  son  of  his 
parents.  His  father  had  been  a  doctor, 
but  had  died  ten  years  before.  His 
mother,  a  sweet-tempered,  rather  help- 
less woman,  had  been  left  well  off,  and 
Roderick  had  a  single  sister,  an  active 
cheerful  girl.  They  lived  in  a  quiet 
Hampshire  village,  but  Roderick's  home 
did  not  mean  much  to  him.  He  was 
allowed  to  do  very  much  as  he  liked,  his 
mother  placidly  assenting  to  any  plans 
that  he  chose  to  make.  He  had  been 
hitherto  quite  unable  to  decide  on  a 
profession,  and  he  was  bursting  with 
ideas  and  experiments.  He  read,  he 
wrote,  he  tried  his  hand  at  drawing,  he 
played  tolerably  on  a  piano.  He  had  no 
academical  ambitions,  and  thought 
meanly  of  exact  knowledge.     He  pro- 

10 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


posed  to  educate  himself  on  his  own 
Hnes,  but  it  was  a  fitful  process ;  much 
of  his  time  was  spent  in  eager  talk,  and 
much  in  vague  and  delightful  reflection ; 
he  was  often  inclined  to  think  his  own 
company  the  best  in  the  world,  though 
he  cultivated  easy  and  pleasant  rela- 
tions with  all  sorts  of  men;  he  was 
popular  and  easy-going,  entertained  a 
good  deal  in  a  simple  way,  and  was  apt 
to  form  sudden  and  not  very  lasting 
friendships  with  people  whom,  for  the 
time  being,  he  idealised.  But  he 
had  a  tough  critical  intelligence,  and 
judged  people  both  tolerantly  and 
incisively.  He  had  a  great  disgust  both 
for  stupidity  and  sensuality,  disliked 
alcohol  and  tobacco,  and  found  all 
women     unintelligible    and    even    tire- 

II 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

some;  he  had    no  reHgion,   but   much 
enthusiasm. 

Harry  Knollys  was  a  very  different 
type;  he  was  a  big  quiet  creature,  who 
rowed  in  the  boat,  and  went  in  for 
athletics.  He  was  handsome  and  strong, 
with  brown  curHng  hair  and  grey  eyes, 
very  imperturbable,  and  extremely 
sensible  and  kindly.  There  was  no 
one  whose  opinion  was  more  deferred 
to  in  the  College,  because  he  always 
said  very  simply,  but  without  any 
provocativeness,  what  he  thought.  He 
was  a  man  of  whom  it  was  natural  to 
ask  a  favour,  and  he  was  thoroughly 
and  consistently  obliging.  He  found 
something  to  like  in  most  men,  and 
never  censured  or  disapproved — and 
indeed  there  was  little  reason  for  him 
12 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


to  do  so,  because  men  tended  to  behave 
soberly  and  reasonably  in  his  presence. 
His  father  was  a  clergyman,  and  he 
himself  intended  to  become  one  in  due 
course.  He  was  looked  upon  by  the 
dons  as  one  of  the  very  best  and  soundest 
men  in  the  College.  He  was  not  at  all 
brilliant,  but  he  had  a  good  head  and  a 
sound  judgment. 

The  third  friend,  Fred  Norman,  was 
the  least  popular;  he  had  some  Scotch 
blood  in  him,  and  his  manner  was  dry 
and  rather  uncompromising.  His  father 
was  a  poor  and  unsuccessful  solicitor, 
and  there  were  several  children.  Fred 
Norman  had  very  little  money,  and 
made  it  go  a  long  way.  He  worked  too 
hard,  and  seldom  left  his  rooms  for  the 
sake  of  company.     He  was  a  fair  athlete ; 

13 


The  Oixhard  Pavilmi 

but  he  had  no  geniality,  and  very  little 
small  talk.  He  was  suspected  of  being 
rather  superior;  he  was  thought  well  of 
by  the  dons,  but  repelled  their  advances, 
and  had  no  use  for  them,  except  in  a 
professional  capacity.  He  had  been 
known  to  say  that  he  wished  they 
would  stick  to  business,  and  not  bother. 
But  he  had  a  real  affection  for  Roderick, 
whom  he  treated  as  a  pleasant  child. 
He  intended  to  go  to  the  Bar,  if  it  could 
be  managed ;  and  he  heartily  disliked  his 
slovenly  home,  with  a  cross  mother,  an 
overworked  father,  and  some  rather 
grim  brothers  and  sisters. 


H 


Ill 

They  had  a  delicious  month  at  the 
farm.  Norman  worked  grimly,  Knollys 
conscientiously,  and  Roderick  alter- 
nately studied  the  history  of  Italian 
painting,  to  illustrate  which  he  had 
brought  down  a  mass  of  cheap  photo- 
graphs, or,  if  the  atmosphere  of  toil 
was  oppressive,  he  pursued  what  he 
called  his  agricultural  studies,  which 
consisted  in  accompanying  Mr.  Hickes 
about  the  farm,  and  getting  him  to  tell 
old  rustic  stories.  The  other  two 
treated  his  Itahan  pictures  with  an 
amused  indulgence.  "I  can't  really 
feel,"  said  Norman,  holding  up  a  photo- 

15 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

graph  of  a  Botticelli  Madonna  by  the 
corner,  "that  it  could  ever  have  been 
worth  anyone's  while  to  spend  time 
over  a  thing  like  this!  It's  not  like 
anything;  and  when  it  was  done,  the 
painter  can  only  have  been  disgusted 
with  it."  "It  was  their  religion  that 
made  them  do  it,"  said  Knollys;  "you 
can  see  that  the  people  who  did  those 
things  really  believed  in  religion." 
"You  are  both  of  you  utterly  and 
entirely  wrong,"  said  Roderick.  "It 
was  worth  while,  because  they  wanted 
to  make  something  beautiful — making 
beautiful  things  is  the  only  thing  which 
is  worth  while — and  it  was  not  religion 
at  all.  They  did  not  believe  in  religion 
as  you  believe  in  it,  Harry!  It's  a 
social  force,  isn't  it?  or  something  quite 
i6 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

as  dull?  They  took  it  all  for  granted, 
of  course,  but  not  as  a  useful  thing — 
just  as  a  thing  which  was  inconceivably 
grand  and  beautiful.  It  had  nothing 
to  do  with  being  good  at  all.  They 
just  painted  their  wives  and  children, 
or  their  mistresses  for  the  matter  of 
that;  and  it  was  the  only  direction  in 
which  their  imagination  could  move. 
It's  like  the  verse  in  the  Blessed  Damo- 
seir 

He  quoted  with  unction : 

"Herself  shall  bring  us,  hand  in  hand. 
To  Him,  round  whom  all  souls 

Kneel, — the  unnumbered  solemn  heads 
Bow'd  with  their  aureoles: 

And  Angels,  meeting  us,  shall  sing 
To  their  citherns  and  citoles. " 

"What   extraordinary    stiiff   you    do 

17 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

get  hold  of,  Roderick!"  said  Norman, 
in  an  agony  of  common-sense.  "That 
seems  to  me  immitigated  twaddle: 
'To  their  citherns  and  citoles,'  indeed!" 

"It's  the  most  beautiful  poem  ever 
written  by  a  man  of  nineteen,"  said 
Roderick. 

"Yes,  I  daresay  it  is!"  said  Norman, 
"that's  not  saying  much!" 

"Fred,  you  are  absolutely  hopeless!" 
said  Roderick;  "you  can't  distinguish 
between  the  books  which  can  be  read, 
and  the  books  which  must  be  written 
about." 

"I  quite  agree,"  said  Norman,  "that 
it  is  just  as  inconceivable  that  human 
beings  should  have  thought  it  worth 
while  to  have  written  most  of  the 
Classics.  But  I  don't  care  a  damn 
l8 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


about  that!     It's  my  business  to  know 
them." 

"This  is  pathetic!"  said  Roderick. 
"Haven't  you  got  further  than  that? 
Books  are  not  about  things,  nor  are 
there  pictures  oj  things.  They  simply 
are  things:  they  are  art — they  are 
symbols." 

"I  haven't  any  idea  what  you  are 
talking  about,"  said  Norman,  with  the 
dignity  of  ignorance.  "This  Thucy- 
dides — it's  an  account  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  War." 

Roderick  groaned.  "No,  it  isn't 
that!"  he  said,  "it's  an  epic — I've 
read  very  little  of  it,  but  enough  to 
know  it  is  an  epic. " 

"Aren't  you  confusing  it  with 
Homer?"  said  Knollys. 

19 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Great  and  merciful  God!"  said  Rod- 
erick, "you  two  chaps  are  in  nether 
darkness!  You  sit  reading  half  the 
day,  and  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
doing  or  where  you  are  going.  Let 
me  expound  the  holy  mysteries  of  Art. 
I  feel  like  a  priest  in  the  shrine,  inter- 
rupted by  the  chatter  of  jackdaws!" 

"Come,  shut  you  up!"  said  Norman, 
"this  isn't  business — get  out  to  your 
agricultural  studies,  or  hold  your  jaw!" 

"I  see  what  you  mean,  in  a  way," 
said  Knollys,  politely,  "but  I  don't 
agree  with  you.  You  shall  get  it  all 
off  your  chest  sometime.  Mind  you, 
I  don't  think  these  pictures  nonsense 
at  all,  I  think  them  rather  good  in 
their  place." 

"Yes,  you  think  Art  is  the  handmaid 
20 


The  Orchard  Pavilioit 

of  religion,"  said  Roderick,  "you  don't 
even  know  that  religion  is  an  art  too, 
and  a  rather  debased  kind  of  art — that 
part  of  it  which  isn't  magic ! " 

Knollys  smiled.  "That's  very  un- 
practical," he  said;  "but  look  here,  I'm 
going  to  finish  this  chapter  before  I 
have  limch,  so  you  had  better  stow  it. 
This  isn't  the  sort  of  talk  for  the  morn- 
ing, you  know,  and  if  it  goes  on,  you 
will  be  chucked  out  of  the  boat!"  He 
seized  Roderick  by  the  arms  and  pro- 
pelled him  to  the  staircase.  "Run 
away  and  play,"  he  said.  "That's  all 
you're  good  for!" 

Roderick  made  an  insulting  gesture, 
and  fled.  "He's  a  mere  child!"  said 
Norman.  "It's  a  mercy  for  him  he 
has    got    some    money."     "I'm    afraid 

21 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


he'll  never  settle  down  to  anything," 
said  Knollys,  "and  yet  he's  clever 
enough  in  his  way!" 

The  two,  left  alone,  resumed  their 
work,  while  the  sun  streaming  in  touched 
the  faded  frescoes  with  soft  gold,  and 
made  the  curly  head  and  fine  features 
of  Knollys  into  the  face  of  an  angel; 
but  that  did  not  occur  to  either  him  or 
Norman.  They  were  both  comfortable 
and  healthy,  and  if  they  were  not 
interested  in  their  work,  they  both  took 
a  sort  of  businesslike  pride  in  doing    it. 


22 


IV 


"Poor  infants!"  said  Roderick,  to 
himself,  thinking  how  delicious  the  old 
house,  with  the  big  trees  behind  it, 
looked  through  the  apple-trees,  laden 
with  waxen  globes  that  were  just 
beginning  to  blush  on  the  southern 
side.  "All  on  one  side! "  he  thought  to 
himself,  "that's  just  perfect — why  did 
I  never  think  of  that  before?"  He 
began  to  murmur  verses  to  himself: 

"The  sun-kissed  orchard,  all  one  way- 
Blushed  ripening  in  the  steady  noon." 

"I'll  work  that  out  sometime,"  he 

thought.     When  he  foimd  the  farmer, 

23 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

he  was  delighted  to  see  that  his  cheeks 
were  like  the  apples  too,  ripened  by  the 
sun  and  air  to  a  delicate  flush.  "I 
declare,  Mr.  Hickes, "  he  said,  "your 
cheeks  are  just  like  apples." 

The  old  man  smiled,  and  put  up  his 
hand  to  his  face.  "That's  the  air," 
he  said,  "that  does  that — they  might 
be  like  a  worser  thing — but  your  cheeks, 
Mr.  Roderick,  they're  more  like  peaches. 
You  keep  them  like  that,  and  you  won't 
repent  it!  I  like  a  boy  to  look  like  a 
peach — then  you  know  he's  going 
straight!" 

"Mr.  Hickes,  you  are  a  poet!"  said 
Roderick.  Air.  Hickes  smiled,  not  ill- 
pleased.  He  felt  a  real  affection  for  the 
boy,  and  liked  his  company.  "  You're  a 
one  to  talk!"  he  said,  shaking  his  head. 

24 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Now  we'll  go  and  find  some  eggs  for 
lunch,"  said  Roderick.  "Your  eggs 
are  heavenly!  I  wonder  how  you 
would  like  the  eggs  we  get  from  the 
kitchen  at  Oxford — they  taste  stuffy, 
you  know."  "Stuffy,  do  they  now," 
said  Mr.  Hickes;  "that's  a  dreadful 
thing  in  an  egg,  to  be  sure!  They 
shouldn't  do  that,  as  a  matter  of  liking." 
**We  are  all  rather  stuffy  at  Oxford," 
said  Roderick.  "You  three  ain't  the 
stuffy  ones,  then!"  said  Mr.  Hickes. 
"Mrs.  Hickes  says  she  never  saw  three 
fresher  young  gentlemen;  it's  a  plea- 
sure to  her  that  her  linen  should  be 
lain  in  by  such,  she  says — and  she's  a 
woman  of  her  word,  is  Mrs.  Hickes." 
"I  really  must  write  all  this  down," 
said    Roderick.      "What's    that,    sir?" 

25 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


said  Mr.  Hickes.  "Why,  what  you 
and  Mrs.  Hickes  say,"  said  Roderick. 
"Nay,  nay!"  said  Mr.  Hickes,  "it 
ain't  for  that — it  just  comes  to  the 
tongue  so. " 

He  stood  in  his  serviceable  brown 
suit  and  leggings,  feeling  with  his  stick 
behind  some  piled-up  wood.  "I  see 
the  black  pullet  about  here  pretty  con- 
stant— there  ought  to  be  some  eggs  in 
here."  "Oh,  let  me  look,"  said  Rod- 
erick. "Yes,  my  word,  here  they  are 
right  enough — one,  two,  three — now 
then  for  three  more!  I  declare  I  think 
that  finding  eggs  is  the  best  fun  in  the 
whole  world!"  "Yes,  if  you  can  lay 
your  hand  on  them,"  said  Mr.  Hickes; 
"that's  a  nice  brown  one  there — they 
seem  to  eat  creamier,  the  brown  ones — 
26 


I  he  Orchard  Pavilion 


it's  a  fancy  I  have!"  "It  looks  as  if 
she  must  have  been  drinking  cofifee, " 
said  Roderick.  Mr.  Hickes  laughed 
loud.  "Nay,"  he  said,  "it's  the  soil 
is  that;  the  black  pullet — she  doesn't 
trouble  the  coffee  much." 


27 


V 


The  three  had  many  talks,  both  at 
meals,  on  walks,  on  bicycle  rides,  or 
best  of  all  late  at  night,  smoking  in  the 
pavilion.  These  talks  as  a  rule  followed 
the  same  sort  of  line,  Roderick  airing 
any  sense  or  nonsense  that  came  into 
his  head,  Norman  objecting  and  retort- 
ing with  much  apparent  but  no  real 
contempt,  KnoUys  conscientiously  and 
genuinely  attempting  to  be  fair  to  both 
points  of  view.  It  was  a  very  good 
atmosphere  for  Roderick  to  appear  at 
his  Hveliest.  ''The  best  of  Fred,"  he 
once  said  to  Knollys,  "is  that  there  is 
never  any  mistake  about  his  liking  you." 
28 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"But  what  about  me?"  Knollys  had 
said.  "Oh,  you — "  said  Roderick, 
smiHng  vaguely,  "you  always  make 
the  best  of  everybody — charity  never 
faileth,  you  know!  I  represent  Faith 
and  Hope!"  "But  what  does  Fred 
represent?"  said  Knollys.  "Why, 
Common-sense,"  said  Roderick. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Norman  was 
deeply  devoted  to  Roderick,  and  though 
he  was  extremely  frank  to  him,  he  never 
allowed  him  to  be  criticised,  even  by 
Knollys.  "Roderick  is  like  a  little 
butterfly,"  said  Knollys  one  morning 
to  Norman,  when  Roderick  had  dashed 
out.  "He  can't  be  serious  for  a 
moment. "  "I  don't  know  about  that! " 
said  Norman.  "I  think  he's  quite  as 
serious  as  I  want.     He  talks  nonsense, 

29 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

of  course;  but  it's  good  nonsense;  he's 
never  stupid,  and  he's  never  mean — 
he  stirs  you  up  somehow;  he's  Uke  the 
soda  in  the  whisky;  not  alcoholic,  but 
like  pins  in  your  throat  and  inside!" 

Roderick  in  fact  possessed  the  subtle 
thing  called  charm;  he  was  not  pro- 
found or  logical  or  clear-headed;  he 
could  not  conduct  an  argument,  but 
he  saw  things  in  quick  flashes — and  he 
had  that  indefinable  gracefulness  of 
face,  action,  manner,  look,  and  voice 
which  makes  people  aware  of  a  person's 
presence,  anxious  to  please  him,  de- 
sirous to  see  and  hear  him,  dull  when 
he  goes,  cheerful  when  he  returns. 
Roderick  never  talked  in  the  same  way  to 
different  people;  he  always  established 
a   relation,   and   paid    his    companions 

30 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

the  subtle  compliment  of  recognising 
their  distinct  qualities,  remembering 
what  they  said,  knowing  their  prefer- 
ences and  prejudices;  and  he  had  too 
the  magnetism  which  made  the  touch 
of  his  hand  on  a  shoulder  or  arm  into 
a  sort  of  little  caress.  He  and  Norman 
had  been  walking  one  morning  in 
the  sunshine  after  breakfast  in  the 
little  garden,  and  he  had  said  to 
Norman  that  he  was  thinking  of  going 
away  for  a  couple  of  nights  to  some 
friends  in  the  neighbourhood.  "Oh, 
not  now!"  said  Norman,  "when  we 
go  away,  if  you  like — look  here,  I  mean 
that — I  like  your  being  here!"  Roder- 
ick looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and 
then  bent  down  to  a  violet-bed  that 
grew   beside   the   path.      "What   huge 

31 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

violets  these  are!"  he  said,  in  a  moment, 
taking  hold  of  one.  "I  really  almost 
thought  they  were  pansies!" 

A  minute  later  he  said  to  Norman: 
"I  nearly  made  a  mistake  just  now.  I 
very  nearly  picked  a  violet  and  gave  it 
you,  when  you  said  that.  It  would 
have  expressed  what  I  meant;  but 
you  wouldn't  have  liked  it,  because 
you  hate  sentiment.  You  would  not 
have  known  what  to  do  with  it.  You 
would  have  twirled  it  in  your  hand, 
and  dropped  it  when  I  wasn't  looking." 
"Try  and  see!"  said  Norman.  "Oh, 
no!"  said  Roderick,  "I  know  better 
— besides,  it  wouldn't  mean  now  at  all 
what  I  felt  then!"  "Pearls  before 
swine?"  said  Norman.  "Well,  no," 
said   Roderick,    "more  like  what   they 

32 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


call  in  the  advertisements,    'peach-fed 
Calif omi an  bacon. 

On  this  particular  evening — it  was  a 
hot  still  night,  and  a  fitful  scented 
breeze  ran  about  the  orchard  and  died 
away  again,  while  the  sky  was  pierced 
with  innumerable  stars — they  were 
sitting  in  the  pavilion,  lounging  and 
gossiping.  "What  a  nice  night  to 
make  love  on!"  said  Roderick  suddenly. 
"I've  never  been  in  love  myself,  except 
when  I  was  ten,  with  a  friend  of  my 
mother's — there  doesn't  seem  any  time 
for  it  nowadays;  but  I  can't  help  think- 
ing it  must  be  rather  fun.  Haven't 
either  of  you  chaps  ever  been  in  love? 
No,  of  course  you  haven't,  Fred — but 
I  somehow  suspect  Harry  of  a  demure 
affair  in  the  background."  He  looked 
^  33 


The  Orchard  Pavilmi 

fixedly  at  Knollys,  who  shifted  in  his 
chair,  got  rather  red,  and  coughed. 
Roderick  imitated  him.  " Oh,  that's  it!" 
he  said;  "well,  I  will  spare  you  now! 
I  admit  you  can't  tell  before  Fred,  but 
I'll  have  it  out  of  you  sometime. "  He 
looked  smilingly  at  Knollys  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said:  "Look  here, 
I  feel  very  confidential  to-night.  Let's 
be  confidential!  Why  shouldn't  we  say 
for  once  what  we  are  really  out  for,  we 
three — what  we  mean  to  do  and  be. 
I'll  begin  the  performance,  if  you  will 
both  swear  to  go  on."  "Well,  we'll 
hear  you  first!"  said  Norman,  "and 
then  we'll  decide.  Now  then,  off  you 
go!" 

"No,  no!"  said  Roderick,  "you  will 
have  to  swear — uplifted  hands,  in  the 

34 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


Scotch  fashion — just  an  affirmation!" 
He  lifted  his  hand,  and  Norman  raised 
his,  and  a  moment  afterwards  Knollys 
did  the  same. 

"Now,  no  nonsense!"  said  Roderick. 
"We'll  be  serious — as  serious  as  death 
for  once.  Let  me  think  a  minute, 
and  pray  for  honesty  —  crystal-clear 
honesty." 

He  sat  meditating,  while  an  owl, 
hidden  in  the  elms,  fluted  softly,  and 
was  answered  by  another  owl  further 
up  the  valley.  "There!"  said  Roder- 
ick, "that's  an  omen — just  that — our 
native  woodnotes  wild!  Here  goes! 
Now,  you  are  not  to  laugh,  or  be  asinine, 
or  shy,  or  stupid.  I  state  unmistakably 
that  I  am  going  to  worship  beauty. 
I  can't  explain  what  it  is,  but  I  know  it 

35 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

when  I  see  it.  It  is  all  wrapped  up  in 
this,  that  you  do  things  because  you 
like  them.  Not  what  you  happen  to 
like  at  the  moment,  because  that  is 
piggish,  nor  what  you  think  right, 
because  that  is  priggish — but  what  you 
know  to  be  beautiful.  I'll  give  you  an 
instance.  I  have  a  remarkably  good 
appetite,  and  I  like  drink — not  for 
drinky  but  for  drunky — I  like  the  sensa- 
tion of  power  and  brilliance  that  it  gives 
me.  But  you  may  have  observed  that 
I  never  touch  spirits,  and  drink  water  at 
lunch,  and  very  often  at  dinner.  If  I 
ever  do  drink,  it's  for  kindness.  And 
why  do  I  abstain? — because  it  is  beauti- 
ful to  abstain;  and  because  people  who 
drink  become  coarse  and  stupid,  and  I 
like  having  myself  in  hind.  Drink  has 
36 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

a  power  over  me,  and  I  don't  like  being 
interfered  with. 

"That's  a  preface!  The  principle,  as 
Harry  would  say,  runs  through  my  life. 

"Now,  for  the  present,  I  want  to 
look  into  everything  which  amuses 
or  interests  me.  I  have  an  idea  that 
everyone  who  tries  to  do  anything  in 
art  is  in  the  same  case  as  myself — he 
has  seen  something  beautiful,  and  wants 
to  say  so.  I  need  not  describe  all  my 
rich  and  varied  accomplishments,  but 
you  may  have  noticed  that  I  practise 
them  for  my  own  pleasure,  and  not  to 
impress  other  people,  though  I  can't 
help  being  impressive.  It's  a  gift  I 
have! 

"Well,  I  don't  care  a  damn  about 
that!     I  want  to  be  liked,  because  that 

37 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

is  beautiful.  I  don't  want  to  be  ad- 
mired, because  that  is  ugly.  I  mean 
to  go  on  looking  round.  I  am  going  to 
read  most  books,  to  see  what  people  are 
driving  at;  I  am  going  to  look  at  pic- 
tures, and  see  fine  places,  and  listen  to 
music,  and  discover  delightful  people. 
I  am  not  going  to  touch  business  or 
politics  with  a  pair  of  tongs;  and  I  don't 
care  a  hang  about  social  reform.  The 
only  reform  worth  having  is  that  people 
should  wish  to  be  beautiful,  and  many 
people  don't  know  what  it  means,  while 
some  people  are  it  without  knowing  it. 
I  am  not  going  to  settle  down  at  any- 
thing imtil  I  see  what  is  worth  doing, 
and  then  I  shall  do  it  with  all  my  might. 
I  don't  want  to  be  married,  and  I  don't 
want  not  to  be  married.  If  I  can  find 
38 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


someone  who  is  beautiful,  and  who 
wants  the  same  things  as  I  do,  I  might 
make  a  match  of  it.  But  I  mean  to  live 
with  people  who  can  give  me  a  sense  of 
there  being  fine  things  about,  and  who 
can  just  neglect  ordinary  things;  and 
why  I  go  about  with  you  two  chaps  is 
more  than  I  can  tell — excuse  my  can- 
dour! Then  I  don't  want  to  be  ill,  I 
don't  want  to  suffer,  I  don't  want  to  die 
— that's  all  very  ugly — though  I  have  a 
suspicion  that  if  I  am  obliged  to  endure 
those  indignities,  there  may  be  some- 
thing rather  splendid  behind  them — in 
fact,  I  think  that  no  one  can  do  really 
splendid  things,  without  having  found  a 
way  out  of  beastl}^  things.  I  suppose," 
he  went  on,  "that  that's  all  of  it  Hebrew 
to  you  two.     Fred  thinks  it  silly,  and 

39 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


Harry  thinks  it  wicked — he  would  call 
it  hedonistic,  if  he  knew  what  the  word 
meant!  I  shall  gratify  my  curiosity, 
but  not  because  I  want  to  do  nasty 
things,  but  to  find  out  what  is  nice — 
No,  I  won't  be  interrupted!  Things 
are  not  always  what  they  seem.  But  I 
won't  have  anything  to  do  with  what 
is  dull,  and  I  don't  want  to  help  or 
benefit  anyone,  or  set  a  good  example, 
or  influence  anyone.  I  don't  believe 
in  that.  The  only  thing  you  can  do  for 
people  is  to  love  them,  if  you  can;  and 
many  people  are  detestable,  and  more 
are  tiresome.  The  one  fatal  mistake 
is  not  to  know  what  you  like  and  why 
you  like  it.  And  so  I  come  back  to  my 
creed,  and  say  that  I  like  things  which 
are  beautiful,  and  because  they  are 
40 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

beautiful,  and  for  no  other  reason." 
He  stopped  and  laughed  and  looked  at 
his  companions.  "Now  you  know!" 
he  said;  adding,  "and  I  suppose  that 
why  I  like  your  company  is  that  there 
are  some  elements  of  beauty  about  you 
two — sadly  warped  and  blurred,  of 
course — but  a  Httle  basis — enough  to 
go  upon.  Now,  it's  your  turn,  Harry — 
we  will  hear  you  first!" 

They  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  Norman  gave  a  laugh,  and  made  as 
if  he  would  have  spoken.  "Hush, 
hush!"  said  Roderick,  "this  is  a  solemn 
affair,  a  celebration  of  mysteries.  Harry 
has  to  read  the  Epistle." 

Knollys  sat  in  his  chair,  with  knitted 
brows.  Then  he  said,  rather  shyly: 
"Well,  I  don't  mind  speaking  out  for 

41 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

once — but  mind,"  he  added,  "I'm  not 
very  good  at  saying  what  I  feel — and 
if  I  use  rather  stupid  words,  it's  be- 
cause I'm  used  to  them.  I  don't  want 
you  two  to  think  them  affected,  even 
if  they  sound  so.  .  .  .  Of  course,"  he 
went  on,  "I  see  that  there's  a  lot  in 
what  Roderick  says — I  agree  with  a  lot 
of  it,  though  I  shouldn't  put  it  like 
that;  but  I  believe — well,  I  beheve  in 
God,  you  know,  and  I  believe  in  con- 
science. That  sounds  very  stiff;  but 
I  mean  it.  I  mean  by  God  a  Power 
that  put  me  here,  and  that  wants 
certain  things  to  be  done.  I  don't  know 
why  He  does  not  do  them  faster — but 
there  is  something  about,  which  I  know 
to  be  evil — I  think  it  is  what  Roderick 
calls  ugliness — nasty,  filthy,  selfish 
42 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

things.  Now,  I  will  be  honest.  I  don't 
claim  to  be  good,  because  I  often  do  not 
do  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  don't  speak 
out  when  I  know  I  ought,  and  I  excuse 
it  to  myself  by  thinking  that  if  I  can 
get  an  influence  over  a  man  by  not 
seeming  priggish,  I  may  be  able  to  do 
something  for  him  which  I  couldn't  do 
if  he  thought  me  priggish.  I  don't  think 
that's  right,  but  one  has  to  be  round- 
about. It's  like  this — you  have  to 
bicycle  by  a  road,  even  if  it  doesn't  go 
straight  to  the  place  you  want  to  get  at. 
You  can't  ride  your  bike  across  ploughed 
fields  and  streams — you  have  got  to 
make  terms  with  people,  though  I 
should  do  it  less  if  I  was  braver.  But  I 
see  in  the  Gospel  that  Christ — I  am  a 
Christian — did    not    go    in    for    finding 

43 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

fault  with  sinners,  and  I  don't  think  He 
did  it  because  He  excused  sin,  but  be- 
cause He  meant  to  save  them,  which  He 
could  not  do  unless  they  loved  and 
trusted  Him. 

"As  to  conscience,  I  believe  it  is  God 
telling  me  what  I  ought  to  do;  and  I 
want  to  do  that;  and  I  want  other 
people  to  follow  conscience,  because  I 
do  not  think  they  can  be  happy  in  any 
other  way.  And  I  am  a  Christian,  be- 
cause I  believe  that  Christ  was  God,  and 
that  He  is  still  here  in  the  world,  work- 
ing not  by  example  and  memory,  but 
by  power  and  life.  I  believe  that  He 
helps  me  when  I  pray,  and  I  do  pray; 
and  then  I  am  a  Churchman,  because  I 
believe  that  the  Church  was  a  Society 
which    Christ    founded,    and    that   He 

44 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

meant  all  the  world  to  be  drawn  into 
it;  and  I  am  an  Anglican,  because 
though  I  see  that  we  are  probably  wrong 
in  some  things,  I  believe  we  are  less 
wrong  than  other  Churches;  because  I 
think  that  the  Romans  have  put  things 
into  the  Gospel  which  are  not  there,  and 
Dissenters  take  away  things  which  are 
there. 

"That's  all  very  short  and  stupid,  I 
am  afraid, "  Knollys  added,  looking  em- 
barrassed; "but  I  don't  often  talk  about 
these  things,  and  I  don't  talk  easily 
about  them — that's  a  fault  of  mine; 
but  it's  rather  a  relief  to  say  them  out 
for  once.  And  what  I  mean  to  do  is  to 
work  on  those  lines,  and  to  trj'-  to  induce 
other  people  to  see  the  truth — and  let 
me  say  that  I  think  that  Roderick  sees 

45 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

a  part  of  the  cnith,  but  only  a  part — 
that  he  is  too  much  taken  up  with  what 
seems  to  me  to  be  pretty  things — but 
things  which  have  to  be  disregarded,  if 
you  are  looking  for  what  is  right.  I 
think  you  must  seek  the  Kingdom  of 
God  and  His  righteousness  first — and 
that  books  and  pictures  and  so  on  are 
some  of  the  things  which  may  be  added 
unto  you — because  I  believe  that  beau- 
tiful things  can  help,  and  are  one  side 
of  God's  mind — but  they  can  be  a 
hindrance  too. " 

KnoUys  sat  blushing,  ashamed  of  his 
earnestness. 

"That's   all   right!"    said    Roderick, 
"full  marks  for  that!     I  see  what  you 
are  out  for,  though  I  don't  agree.    Now 
then,  Fred!" 
46 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Well,  I  won't  refuse!"  said  Fred— 
"but  you  will  neither  of  you  like  what 
I  am  going  to  say.  I  think  that  both 
of  you  know  a  damned  sight  too  much 
about  these  things.  I  am  an  Agnostic, 
of  course,  and  I  don't  believe  that  any- 
one can  know  as  much  about  God  as 
Harry  does,  or  as  you  do,  Roderick, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  because  you  mean 
the  same  sort  of  thing,  only  you  call  it 
Beauty.  I  think  there's  a  Power,  all 
right!  No  one  but  a  fool  can  be  an 
Atheist;  but  I  don't  know  if  it  is  a 
Person.  If  it  is  a  Person,  he's  a  very 
strong-minded  Person,  not  like  any  of 
us  three,  and  caring  precious  little 
what  we  think  of  him.  He's  not  senti- 
mental, or  artistic,  nor  what  I  should 
call   good.     He   does    plenty   of  cruel, 

47 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

unjust,  devilish  things.  He  cares  very 
little  about  individuals,  and  a  lot  about 
the  race.  He's  ahead  of  us — tremen- 
dously ahead  of  us — and,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  he  can't  do  as  he  likes, 
though  he  makes  tremendous  efforts  to 
do  so.  To  be  honest,  I  really  think 
that  there  are  two  things  at  work,  one 
wanting  to  rush  on  and  one  wanting  to 
stop;  and  I  haven't  a  notion  which  is 
going  to  win. 

"Then,  for  myself,  I  know  very  little 
about  that  either.  I  know  what  I  like 
and  what  I  hate — and  I  change,  though 
why  I  change,  and  what  I  am  changing 
into,  I  don't  know;  and  to  be  frank,  I 
don't  much  care. 

"What  am  I  out  for  then?  Well,  I 
want  to  be  strong,  I  want  to  get  what  I 

48 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

like,  and  I  want  to  be  felt,  as  they  say. 
I  like  work  and  I  like  power.  I  hate 
mean  and  small  and  dirty  and  grubby 
people.  Why  I  like  you  two  is  because 
you  are  neither  of  you  that,  whatever 
you  may  be.  I  can't  make  people  like 
me,  and  I  don't  want  to;  but  I  don't 
mean  to  be  taken  liberties  with,  and  I 
mean  to  make  people  do  what  I  tell 
them  to  do;  I  believe  in  the  State — 
I  mean  that  I  think  it's  an  arrangement 
for  living  sensibly  together  with  as  much 
liberty  as  possible.  If  people  won't  fall 
into  line,  they  must  be  made  to.  And 
I  haven't  any  use  for  idle,  wasteful, 
stupid,  fanciful  people.  I've  more  use 
really,  Harry,  for  you  than  for  Roderick, 
because  you  can  be  used  to  keep  order, 
and  I'm  not  so  sure  that  he  can.     But 

*  ■  49 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

there  is  such  a  thing  as  leisure,  and 
people  have  got  to  be  amused — and 
Roderick  can  come  in  there  if  he  likes. 
If  you  ask  me  where  my  theory  of  what 
is  right  comes  from,  I  say  frankly  that 
the  world  is  in  a  mess,  and  my  theory 
keeps  it  a  little  more  straight — but  it's 
only  making  the  best  out  of  rather  a 
bad  business.  There!"  Fred  added, 
more  moved  than  was  his  wont,  "that's 
my  idea,  plainly,  and  perhaps  coarsely 
put — but  you  two  belong  to  me,  and  not 
I  to  you,  and  that's  the  truth.  You 
have  got  to  come  into  line,  or  take  the 
consequences. " 

"That's  really  very  fine!"  said  Rod- 
erick,   with    a    glance    of    admiration. 
"The  tyrant's  vein;  and  it   suits  you 
very  well!     I  didn't  Imow  you  had  any 
50 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

of  these  ideas,  and  it's  really  very 
creditable.  But  now  I  am  going  to  sum 
up,  so  there!  I  can't  let  this  alone. 
You  are  both  of  you  wrong,  because 
your  only  idea  is  brute  force.  You  have 
both  got  what  you  call  convictions,  and 
I  am  above  both  of  you,  because  I  have 
none.  I  believe  in  persuasion  and 
beautiful  example;  Harry  can  only 
threaten  people  with  a  loss  of  happiness 
and  Fred  can  only  bully  them  into 
playing  his  particular  game.  It's  all 
force,  and  force  is  no  go.  There's 
nothing  attractive  about  either  of  your 
theories,  and  attractiveness  is  the  only 
power  worth  anything.  Harry's  is  a 
starved  affair,  because  he  believes  in  the 
inspired  opinion  of  pious  people.  I 
believe  in  the  inspiration  of  genius,  but 

51 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


pious  people  are  very  rarely  geniuses, 
though  I  grant  you  that  Christ,  and 
Isaiah,  and  the  author  of  Job,  and  St. 
Paul,  and  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  were  all 
geniuses.  But  the  thing  has  got  into 
the  hands  of  the  respectable,  and  that's 
a  dull  affair;  while  as  to  Fred,  he  would 
like  it  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  strong 
people,  and  that's  a  much  duller  affair. 
Now  I  believe  in  a  power  that  woos  us — 
Christianity  grows  up  out  of  it,  and  gets 
perverted  into  timidity — and  politics 
grow  up  out  of  it,  and  get  stiffened  into 
prejudice.  The  fault  of  both  is  that 
they  are  stupid  and  hard.  There's 
nothing  fine  or  free  about  them.  They 
are  heavy-handed,  they  are  all  rules — 
and  what  we  want  are  instincts. " 

"Yes,"  said  Norman,  "I  agree  with 

52 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

that;  it  is  instinct  which  we  want  to 
train — that  is  what  civilisation  does. 
You  can't  make  a  man  into  a  good 
citizen  by  bringing  him  to  heel  by  means 
of  law,  or  even  by  trying  to  persuade 
him  how  sensible  the  law  is;  but  you 
can  educate  his  children  properly,  and 
they,  or  their  children,  will  be  better 
citizens  by  instinct.  But  it  all  has  to 
be  done  scientifically;  knowledge  goes 
before  and  feeling  follows  after;  the  man 
of  science  studies  the  law  of  heredity, 
and  takes  advantage  of  it  gradually  to 
produce  a  better  stock." 

"Of  course,"  said  Roderick,  "the 
man  of  science  is  useful  enough  in  his 
way — to  do  the  dirty  work — or  call  it 
the  spade-work  if  you  prefer;  but  don't 
you  see  that  emotion  must  precede  even 

53 


The  Oixhard  Pavilion 


that?  The  scientific  man  must  want  to 
make  things  better,  before  he  takes  the 
pains  to  find  out  how.  It's  a  dim  idea  of 
beauty,  I  admit — but  still  it  is  an  idea 
of  beauty  that  haunts  him.  He  is  a 
muddled  sort  of  idealist  at  bottom, 
though  he  does  not  know  it.  Why,  take 
a  thing  like  sanitation;  the  pleasure  of 
the  nose,  and  the  dislike  of  bad  smells, 
produced  sanitation  among  the  Romans 
long  before  they  knew  anything  about 
bacteria;  and  Harry  is  in  the  same 
muddle  too;  he  talks  as  if  virtue  had 
been  invented  by  Christianity — but 
Christianity  was  evoked  by  the  fact 
that  people  felt  that  goodness  was  more 
beautiful  than  wickedness — and  that  is 
why  I  agree  with  him  on  the  whole 
more    than    I    do    with    you,    because 

54 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

theology  is  at  least  an  attempt  to  express 
emotions,  while  science  is  an  attempt  to 
disregard  emotions. " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Norman,  "science 
does  not  disregard  emotions — it  ana- 
lyses them,  and  shows  that  they  are 
all  only  developments  of  very  primitive 
things — the  wish  to  live,  the  instinct  of 
reproduction,  and  so  on.  But  your 
mistake  is  to  confuse  artistic  emotions 
with  primary  needs — artistic  emotions 
are  only  produced  by  an  artificial  pro- 
cess. Everyone  ought  to  work;  and 
if  you  relieve  a  class  from  the  need  to 
work,  and  make  them  elaborately  com- 
fortable, then  their  superficial  fancies 
begin  to  have  an  altogether  unreal  hold 
over  them — art  is  only  a  parasitic 
growth!" 

55 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


"But  it  is  there!"  said  Roderick, 
"and  my  emotions  at  the  sight  of  an 
orchard  on  a  sunny  morning  are  just 
as  real  as  my  sensations  if  I  have  typhoid 
fever.  That  is  where  you  are  unscien- 
tific. You  haven't  any  emotions  your- 
self, and  so  you  cannot  conceive  that 
any  well-regulated  people  ought  to  have 
any  either.  You  talk  contemptuously 
of  the  imagination  as  a  fantastic  sort 
of  thing — and  that  makes  all  your  science 
a  sham  affair,  because  you  only  inves- 
tigate the  very  few  and  dull  phenomena 
you  happen  to  have  observed. " 

"It's  just  a  question  of  relative 
importance, "  said  Norman.  "  Of  course 
all  knowledge  is  not  equally  valuable. 
There  are  a  certain  number  of  threads 
in  that  rug — but  it  is  not  worth  anyone's 
56 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


while  to  count  them.  If  the  scientific 
man  neglects  imagination,  it  is  because  it 
obviously  doesn't  lead  anywhere.  When 
we  have  settled  the  things  that  do  matter, 
then  we  will  take  up  the  less  important 
phenomena.  One  finds  fairy-stories,  for 
instance,  in  every  nation.  It's  a  pheno- 
menon, I  grant  you;  but  it  isn't  worth 
while  to  devote  one's  life  to  disproving 
the  existence  of  fairies." 

"I'll  take  you  on  at  that,"  said 
Roderick.  "Here's  an  argument  which 
Harry  might  use.  The  parables  in  the 
Gospel,  which  are  imaginary  tales,  have 
had  more  effect  in  producing  orderly 
citizens  than  all  the  scientific  books 
which  were  ever  written.  Harry,  why 
don't  you  speak  up — come  and  help  to 
knock  out  this  wretched  materialist. " 

57 


The  Qychard  Pavilion 


Harry  smiled  rather  dimly;  then  he 
got  up,  knocked  out  his  pipe,  and  said: 
"I  don't  think  I'll  listen  any  longer; 
you  won't  mind  if  I  go  off  to  bed,  will 
you?  I  don't  want  to  spoil  your  sport, 
but  it  only  confuses  me.  The  whole 
thing  seems  simple  enough  to  me — that 
God  is  leading  the  world  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  truth — it  sounds  awfully  solemn, 
that — but  I  mean  it!  I  can't  argue 
about  these  things,  but  I  feel  if  I  be- 
lieved what  either  of  you  are  saying,  I 
should  have  to  shut  up  shop  altogether." 

"Oh,  we'll  stop  jawing,"  said  Rod- 
erick; "don't  go  off  like  this!" 

"No,  please  don't  stop  talking!" 
said  Harry,  "there  isn't  any  sort  of 
reason  to  do  so,  if  you  are  interested — 
but    it    makes    me    ur  comfortable.      I 

58 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


can't  hold  on.  Good-night,  and  don't 
think  me  an  ass,  if  you  can  help  it. " 

He  went  out,  and  they  heard  him 
cross  the  orchard  in  silence,  and  the 
farm-door  open  and  shut. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Harry?" 
said  Norman;  "he  isn't  annoyed,  is 
he?" 

"Annoyed,  no!"  said  Roderick,  "but 
don't  you  see  what  has  happened.  You 
have  no  imagination,  Fred — Don't  you 
see  that  after  that  speech  of  his — which 
really  was  rather  fine — he  feels  exactly 
as  if  he  had  been  seen  by  Mrs.  Hickes 
dancing  a  pas  seid  in  his  pyjamas  on  the 
lawn.  I  rather  admire  him  for  it — and 
it  will  restore  his  self-respect  to  go. 
He  will  feel  he  has  done  the  right  thing, 
and  I'm  not  sure  that  he  hasn't.     It  is 

59 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

better  than  finding  nothing  inconven- 
iently sacred,  like  you  and  me!" 

"Well,  he  may  be  right,"  said  Nor- 
man, "but  I  object  to  not  facing  things. 
I'll  tell  you  quite  plainly  what  I  object 
to  in  both  your  theories.  You  both  of 
you  begin  by  wanting  to  be  comfortable. 
You  are  like  children — you  want  to  be 
reassured,  and  told  that  the  medicine  is 
nice.  You  both  of  you  start  by  wanting 
nature,  whatever  nature  may  be,  to 
have  a  specifically  benevolent  intention 
to  you;  you  think  that  Nature  is  senti- 
mental, and  Harry  thinks  that  it  is 
pious.  It  is  neither;  it  is  bent  on  doing 
something,  evolving  some  sort  of  order; 
but  it  doesn't  care  a  damn  about 
people's  feelings.  It  is  very  merciless 
and  very  strong.  It  i::  fighting  some- 
60 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


thing — I  don't  know  what — and  we 
have  to  find  out  what  it  means,  and  to 
fight  too.  I  admit  that  it  is  a  nasty 
business  that  is  going  on;  but  I  want 
to  find  out  what  is  going  on,  and  both 
you  and  Harry  seem  only  bent  on 
throwing  eau-de-cologne  about  to  hide 
the  smell." 

"And  I  think,"  said  Roderick,  "that 
you  are  so  much  interested  in  the  bad 
smell  that  you  can't  think  of  anything 
else.  I  don't  agree  with  you,  or  with 
Harry  either,  because  you  are  both 
working  on  a  preconceived  plan.  I  am 
really  more  scientific  than  either  of 
you,  because  I  go  deeper  in,  and  try 
to  tell  you  what  is  behind  both  of  your 
plans.  Harry  calls  his  plan  reHgion, 
and  he  thinks  that  it  is  a  lot  of  definite 

6i 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

truths,  which  he  calls  dogmas,  pumped 
into  the  world  from  outside — and  the 
weakness  of  his  case  is  that  he  can  only- 
say :  'You  can't  prove  they  are  not  true.' 
You  say  that  it  is  all  a  matter  of  micro- 
scopes and  chemicals;  and  the  weak- 
ness of  your  case  is  that  you  say:  'You 
must  prove  that  it  is  true* — and  mean- 
while you  miss  a  lot  of  fine  things 
which  one  knows  to  be  true,  but  can't 
prove.  Harry  isn't  scientific  enough, 
and  you  are  too  scientific;  but  I  believe 
in  the  power  of  imagination  to  outrun 
facts  a  little — and  that  seems  to  me  to 
be  really  the  force  which  is  pushing 
both  you  and  Harry  forwards,  though 
you  neither  of  you  know  it. " 

"I  quite  agree,"  said  Norman,  "that 
your  imagination  is  w?ll  in  advance  of 
62 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


the  facts;  and  I  think  that  it  is  all  a 
waste  of  time.  I  believe  that  emotions 
are  only  a  sort  of  ripple  on  the  face  of 
facts,  and  caused  by  the  facts;  and  I 
want  to  put  things  in  their  place.  I 
see  a  most  almighty  mess,  and  I  want 
to  get  it  straight.  I  don't  see  that  your 
emotions  help  us.  I  agree  with  the  man 
who  said  that  a  good  sewer  was  an 
entirely  holy  thing,  and  I  think  it  is 
worth  all  the  music  ever  written,  and 
all  the  pictures  of  angels  that  were  ever 
painted.  I  want  to  make  it  possible  for 
people  to  live  rational  and  wholesome 
lives." 

"Yes,"  said  Roderick,  "you  worship 
the  poHceman  and  the  sanitary  inspect- 
or. But  I  don't  want  to  substitute 
their   figures   in   stained-glass    windows 

63 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

for  the  figures  cf  saints  and  angels.  I 
maintain  that  a  sense  of  what  is  beauti- 
ful must  precede  any  desire  to  make 
things  wholesome;  and  I  believe  that 
both  you  and  Harry  put  what  you  call 
knowledge  before  beauty,  while  I  think 
that  knowledge  is  only  a  sort  of  desire 
for  beauty.  It  seems  to  me  that  neither 
of  you  wants  to  interpret  facts,  but  only 
to  neglect  the  facts  you  don't  happen  to 
have  noticed.  I  am  every  bit  as  scien- 
tific as  you,  and  more  so,  in  fact,  because 
I  don't  deny  your  facts  at  all.  I  only 
think  that  the  evidences  of  beauty  are  a 
more  important  set  of  facts  than  the 
evidences  of  ugliness;  and  I  prefer  to 
spend  my  time  in  studying  what  seems 
to  me  to  be  fine  and  splendid,  because  I 
think  that  is  a  quickei  way  to  cure  the 

64 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


nasty  things  than  to  go  nosing  into 
cesspools.  You  want  to  bully  people 
out  of  being  dirty — I  want  to  make 
them  wish  to  be  clean." 

"And  where  does  poor  Harry  come 
in?"  said  Norman. 

"Oh,  he  wants  to  infect  people  with 
a  false  shame,"  said  Roderick.  "He 
is  afraid  both  of  beauty  and  ugliness 
alike.  I  would  rather  have  one  of  his 
saints  than  one  of  your  inspectors;  but 
I  think  he  is  timid  and  conventional, 
while  I  think  you  are  only  strong  and 
stupid." 

Norman  laughed.  "We  have  got 
into  the  Palace  of  Truth  at  last,"  he 
said. 

"It's  your  fault!"  said  Roderick. 
"You  provoke  me  by   being  so   cock- 

65 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

sure,  and  by  regarding  me  as  an  elegant 
trifler.  You  see,  I  want  to  go  to  the 
heart  of  the  thing,  and  to  find  the  Tree 
of  Life  which  I  am  sure  is  in  the  middle 
of  the  garden,  while  you  are  weeding 
out  the  thistles  in  the  fields  outside, 
and  saying  that  you  will  believe  in  the 
Tree  of  Life  when  you  see  it.  Hang 
you,  I  see  it  all  the  time,  and  it's  full 
of  fruit." 

"Yes,  I  will  be  just,"  said  Norman; 
"I  think  you  do  see  something  which 
I  don't  see,  and  I  think  that  Harry  does 
too;  but  I  must  go  my  own  way  to 
work,  and  I'll  pull  up  thistles  for  the 
present.  I'm  sure  they  have  no  busi- 
ness to  be  there!" 

"You're  eating  them,  you  dear  old 
donkey!"  said  Roderck — "Look  here, 
66 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


I  can't  go  on;  I'm  suddenly  weary  of 
the  heights  of  philosophy.  Let's  get 
down  again!  We've  had  a  splendid 
time  here,  haven't  we?  I  wonder  if  we 
shall  ever  have  as  good  a  time  again. 
Don't  you  know  the  awful  feeling  of  the 
nice  things  slipping  away — one  can't  keep 
them — sweet  things  have  an  end — I  ex- 
pect it  would  be  very  dull  if  they  didn't ! " 
"No,  I  don't  care  about  looking 
back,"  said  Norman;  "I  want  to  get  on, 
to  work,  to  get  my  teeth  into  something. 
Of  course,  I  have  had  a  very  good  time 
here,  and  I'd  like  to  say  how  much  I 
have  enjoyed  it.  You  will  smile  at 
what  I'm  going  to  say,  Roderick — I'm 
not  often  sentimental — but  I  believe 
I  care  for  you  much  more  than  you  care 
for  me,  in  spite  of  all  your  emotions!" 

67 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  dear  boy,"  said 
Roderick  smiling,  and  more  moved  than 
he  wished  to  show. 

"Yes,  you  think  so!"  said  Norman; 
"but  I'll  finish  now.  I  think  you  will 
very  likely  go  further  than  either  Harry 
or  me,  and  for  the  simple  reason  that 
you  don't  really  care  about  either  of  us 
— you  care  for  something  behind  us,  of 
which  we  are  just  convenient  symbols. 
Do  you  see  what  I  mean?  I  care  for 
one  or  two  people  in  a  definite  and  con- 
crete way;  but  you  will  simply  go  on, 
caring  for  people  because  they  seem 
what  you  call  beautiful — and  then  they 
will  become  uninteresting,  and  you  will 
care  no  more — you  will  just  go  on 
finding  other  people  interesting  and 
beautiful.  I'm  not  fir.ding  fault,  you 
68    ^ 


TJie  Orchard  Pavilion 

know!  It's  your  way — it  isn't  mine; 
but  you  miss  something  by  it,  which 
I  think  I  have  got.  You  will  go  about 
charming  and  delighting  people —  that's 
all  right;  yet  you  don't  like  people — • 
you  like  something  you  see  in  them — 
something  they  represent.  But  you 
don't  care  about  humanity  a  bit;  you 
don't  care  about  causes.  You  are  just 
looking  for  something  you  like.  Now  I 
do  really  want  to  combine,  to  co-operate, 
to  put  heads  together  and  to  mend 
matters.  I'm  even  ready  to  give  up 
what  I  prefer,  if  I  can  get  at  a  net  result 
so.  Now,  I  don't  want  you  to  lose 
sight  of  that — I  don't  want  you  to  do 
me  an  injustice;  because  I'm  ashamed  of 
caring   so   much   that   you   should   like 


me." 


69 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

Norman  stopped  suddenly.  Roder- 
ick leaned  forwards,  propping  his  chin  on 
his  hands,  and  looked  at  him.  "That's 
magnificent!"  he  said;  "why  did  you 
never  say  all  this  before?  I  didn't 
think  you  cared  a  hang  for  anyone! 
What  an  ass  I  am!  I  go  about  with 
my  head  in  the  air,  and  see  nothing. 
You  don't  know  what  a  fool  you  have 
made  me  feel!  Well,  never  mind  that 
now.  I  simply  adore  you!  Is  that 
enough?" 

He  slipped  on  his  knees,  and  took 
Norman's  hands  for  a  moment  in  his 
own,  then  got  up,  laughing.  "There!" 
he  said,  "I  have  taken  my  degree  from 
you — a  foolish  ceremony,  but  sym- 
bolical. " 

They  went  out,  afttr  extinguishing 
70 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


the  lamp,  through  the  orchard;  as  they 
passed  the  violet-bed,  Roderick  picked 
a  violet,  and  said,  "Will  you  have  one 
now?"  Norman  said  nothing,  but  took 
the  violet,  held  Roderick's  arm  for  a 
minute,  and  they  went  into  the  house. 

Roderick  lay  long  awake,  revolving 
the  little  scene  in  his  mind.  "I've  been 
an  unmitigated  ass!"  he  said  to  himself; 
"I  can't  forgive  myself  for  not  having 


seen." 


71 


VI 


On  the  following  morning — it  was  to  be 

their  last  day  at  Sunset  Farm — Knollys 

sought  out  Roderick,  and  said,  "Look 

here,   Roderick,   about  last  night — I'm 

very    sorry,    but    I    really   couldn't    do 

otherwise.     I  felt — does  this  sound  to 

you  absurd? — as  I  should  have  felt  if 

you  had  been  talking  about  my  mother, 

laughing  at  her,  criticising  her.     I  don't 

for  a  moment  say  you  haven't  the  right 

to  discuss  these  things,  but  I  also  know 

you  wouldn't  wish  to  force  me  to  listen, 

if  it  upsets  me.     I  can't  answer  you, 

and  it   all   puzzles   me.      Of   course   if 

I   were    really    more   strong-minded    I 
72 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

shouldn't  care  a  bit;  but  I  can't  hold 
on  to  things  with  my  mind,  only  with 
my  heart.  I  saw  a  sentence  the  other 
day  in  a  book  which  describes  exactly 
what  I  feel,  that  a  Christian  hasn't 
many  things  to  do,  only  one  thing  to  do, 
looking  always  to  Christ — and  when 
I  look  at  Him  through  talk  like  yours 
and  Fred's,  it's  Hke  looking  through  a 
bit  of  uneven  glass  which  distorts  the 
features.  You  will  forgive  me,  won't 
you?" 

"Oh,  it's  all  the  other  way,"  said 
Roderick.  "I  think  if  we  had  known 
exactly  what  you  were  feeling,  we  should 
never  have  gone  on — we  should  never 
have  begun.  I'm  not  made  that  way — 
I  don't  think  of  anything  as  sacred — or 
rather  the  more  that  I  believe  a  thing, 

73 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

the  more  I  like  to  hear  it  discussed, 
because  it  only  strengthens  my^elief — 
or  if  it  weakens  my  belief  in  it,  then  I 
think  I  am  glad  to  have  it  weakened. 
Never  mind!  It's  just  one  of  those 
things  which  happen,  and  it's  no  use 
going  back  on  it.     I'm  truly  sorry!" 

"Will  you  tell  Fred?"  said  Knollys. 
"I  don't  think  I  can  even  speak  to  him 
about  it,  but  I  am  sure  you  understand 
how  I  feel  about  it  all. " 

"All  right!"  said  Roderick.  "But 
Fred  imderstands  quite  well;  and  I 
think  that  in  a  way  we  both  admire 
what  you  did." 

They  were  very  careful  that  day,  the 
three  young  men,  to  let  no  jarring  note 
intervene.  The  pleasant  days  together, 
and  the  sense  of  its  being  all  over  and 

74 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


done  with,  touched  them  all  with  a 
sense  of  sadness — not  unpleasant  sad- 
ness. They  sat  for  the  last  time  in 
the  pavilion,  and  spoke  fitfully  and 
quietly  of  ordinary  things. 

Roderick  was  early  astir  the  next 
morning;  he  woke  up  at  the  singing  of 
the  birds,  and  could  not  sleep  again. 
So  he  got  up  and  rambled  about.  The 
place  was  still  asleep,  it  seemed,  and 
the  early  light  of  dawn  came  in  with  a 
deep  enriching  touch  of  colour  on  wall 
and  tree.  Roderick  had  the  sense  that 
it  had  been  a  very  beautiful  period, 
singularly  free  from  all  ugly  elements; 
and  the  Httle  interview  with  both  his 
companions  in  those  last  hours  had 
drawn  them  very  close  to  himself.  Was 
it  true,  he  wondered,   that  he  was  so 

75 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

light-minded  and  fickle  in  affection  as 
Fred  had  said?  He  did  not  feel  so,  but 
he  recognised  a  certain  insight  in  Fred's 
remarks  which  he  could  not  gainsay; 
and  that  morning  he  wanted  to  get  the 
spirit  of  the  place  and  the  time  into  his 
mind,  and  to  fix,  if  he  could,  his  affec- 
tion constantly  on  his  friends.  Such  a 
time,  he  thought,  ought  to  leave  its 
mark,  ought  to  bring  him  nearer  to 
what  he  wished  to  become,  to  reassure 
him  as  he  wished  to  be  reassured.  And 
he  desired,  too,  not  to  feel  that  he  took 
a  narrow  and  prejudiced  view — to  under- 
stand Harry's  belief  and  Fred's  sceptic- 
ism. He  did  not  want  to  be  excluded 
from  anything  which  seemed  to  him 
either  pure  or  strong. 

Then    came    the    farewells    and    the 

76 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

bustle  of  departure;  and  the  last  look 
at  the  little  pavilion  among  the  orchard 
boughs,  and  the  old  house  under  the 
trees,  with  all  the  homely  sights  about 
it,  and  the  breath  of  summer  air. 


77 


PART  II 

VII 

All  that  was  in  the  year  of  grace  1884. 

The    trio    of    the    pavilion    took    their 

degrees  and  left  Oxford.    Norman  went 

to  the  Bar,  and  did  well.     By  the  year 

1 912  he  had  a  large  practice;  he  had 

taken  silk,  and  was  considered  certain 

to  be  made  a  judge.    He  was  a  widower 

now,  and  had  one  daughter  whom  he 

worshipped  with   a   depth  of  devotion 

with  which  anyone  seeing  him  in  court, 

with   his   hard   brisk   manner   and   his 

rather   pitiless    grasp    of    mean    issues, 

would  have  found  it  hs-^d  to  credit  him. 
78 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

Knollys  was  a  country  clergyman,  and 
an  Honorary  Canon  of  his  Cathedral. 
He  was  happily  married,  and  had  three 
sons,  as  athletic  and  as  simple-minded 
as  their  father.  Roderick  had  become 
perhaps  the  most  successful  of  the  three. 
He  had  travelled  for  a  time,  then  he  had 
settled  in  London,  had  married  a  rich 
and  distinguished  wife,  and  he  had 
become  a  prominent  journalist  and 
author.  His  leading  articles  were  one 
of  the  strong  points  of  the  Morning 
Telegraph;  he  had  written  many  and 
various  books — novels,  essays,  criticisms, 
and  belles-lettres  generally,  and  his  name 
was  widely  known. 

The  three  friends  had  not  seen  very 
much  of  each  other,  though  they  met 
at  intervals;  and  Roderick  had  two  or 

79 


TJie  Orchard  Pavilion 

three  times  travelled  with  Norman; 
but  their  circles  did  not  touch;  though 
Norman  and  Roderick  had  insisted 
with  friendly  persuasiveness  on  being 
allowed  the  pleasure  of  helping  to  send 
Knollys's  three  boys  to  the  old  school 
and  the  old  college. 

This  was  a  letter  received  by  Norman 
in  the  spring  of  191 2: 

Lowndes  Square, 
March  26,  1912. 

My  dear  Fred, — I  have  got  an 
amusing  bit  of  news  for  you.  Who 
would  have  thought  it?  My  wife  and 
I  have  for  the  last  ten  years  been  fit- 
fully planning  to  set  up  a  little  place 
in  the  country,  instead  of  having  the 
bother  of  taking  a  house  somewhere 
80 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

year  by  year.  Last  summer  I  saw  in 
an  agent's  catalogue  the  sale  of  the 
Helmdon  estate,  announced  in  lots. 
You  remember  perhaps  that  Sunset 
Farm,  where  we  spent  that  delightful 
month  in  the  Long  of  '84,  was  part  of 
it.  Well,  I  bestirred  myself,  went  down 
with  my  wife,  and  found  the  place 
practically  unchanged,  though  dear  old 
Hickes  and  his  wife  were  long  dead — I 
saw  their  graves  in  the  churchyard.  The 
old  pavilion  is  just  as  it  was;  and  my 
wife  fell  hopelessly  in  love  with  the 
place.  We  bought  the  farm,  about  a 
hundred  acres ;  we  have  built  a  new  farm- 
house, not  far  away;  and  we  have  done 
up  and  added  to  the  old  farm-house, 
very  judiciously,  I  think.  We  have  left 
all  the  old  farm-buildings;  and  I  have 
*^  81 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

turned  the  pavilion  into  an  outdoor 
study  for  myself.  All  this  I  have  kept 
a  profound  secret;  and  now  the  place  is 
ready  for  habitation.  I  have  set  my 
heart  on  a  little  house-warming;  and 
I  want  you  and  Harry  to  come  down 
for  a  couple  of  nights.  I  have  even 
prevailed  on  my  wife  to  let  us  have  it 
to  ourselves  for  those  first  two  nights. 
It  really  is  a  dramatic  affair,  that  we 
three  should  meet  again  nearly  thirty 
years  later;  and  we  will  have  a  rare 
talk,  and  see  how  our  old  theories  have 
stood  the  test  of  time.  I  don't  myself 
feel  a  bit  different.  I  am  writing  to  old 
Harry  too;  but  I  don't  suppose  he  is  so 
much  tied  as  you  are.  So  please  fix  a 
date  if  you  can  in  the  next  month,  and 
we  will  get  Harry  to  p  it  up  a  prayer  for 
82 


The  Orcharct  Pavilion 

Fair  Weather.  Please  fall  in  with  my 
whim,  and  if  you  can  get  down  to  lunch- 
eon on  the  Saturday  so  much  the  better. 
Meantime  I  am  petitioning  our  parson, 
who  is  a  good  fellow,  to  let  Harry  preach 
on  Sunday  in  the  church,  and  I  shall 
like  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say.  You 
will  have  to  bring  Violet  down  some 
other  time.  I  am  always  rather  touched 
when  I  think  why  you  gave  her  that 
name! — Ever  yours, 

Roderick  Armitage. 

Roderick  wrote  in  very  similar  terms 
to  Knollys,  and  all  went  well. 

On  the  24th  of  April,  Roderick  was 
pacing  the  station  platform  at  Eynedon 
shortly  after  noon.  He  was  an  interest- 
ing and  striking  figure.    He  still  moved 

83 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

lightly  and  gracefully.  He  wore  his 
hair  a  little  long,  and  had  a  carelessly- 
trimmed  pointed  beard  and  moustache, 
which  showed  a  good  many  white  hairs. 
His  complexion  was  as  clear  and  fresh 
as  ever,  with  a  sanguine  tinge,  and  his 
bright  eyes  un dimmed.  He  was  easily 
dressed  in  well-worn  and  well-fitting 
clothes,  and  had  an  air  of  distinction 
and  success  which  were  unmistakable. 

The  train  drew  up;  Norman  and 
Knollys  descended.  Norman  was  thin 
and  wiry;  he  was  bald  now,  and  his 
clean-shaven  lips  and  chin  were  firm 
and  strong.  His  face  was  much  lined, 
but  he  gave  a  sense  of  vigour,  decision, 
and  alertness.  Knollys  had  retained 
the  most  youthful  air  of  the  three.  He 
was  hardly  grizzled,  a:"".d  his  tall  form 

84 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

was  active  and  well-knit.  His  expres- 
sive face,  with  the  large  grey  eyes, 
looked  serious,  and  there  were  patient 
lines  on  his  updrawn  brow.  They  cer- 
tainly made  a  remarkable  trio.  Rod- 
erick greeted  them  both  with  great 
fervour  and  affectionateness.  A  smart 
footman,  assisted  by  Norman's  youthful 
valet,  saw  to  the  luggage;  and  they 
were  presently  whirled  off  in  Roderick's 
very  luxurious  car. 

"I  very  nearly  made  you  both  bike!" 
said  Roderick,  laughing,  "just  to  revive 
the  atmosphere!  But  it  doesn't  do  to 
be  too  dramatic.  It's  quite  enough  like 
a  fairy  tale  as  it  is!" 

They  were  soon  at  the  house,  and 
strolled  round  with  Roderick  before 
luncheon.     He  had  really  treated  the 

85 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

whole  thing  very  artistically.  It  was 
all  elaborately  simple;  he  had  picked 
up  old-fashioned  local  furniture,  and 
there  was  a  pleasant  air  of  homely  ease 
about  the  rooms.  The  pavilion  itself 
had  been  hardly  altered.  "It's  a  prin- 
ciple of  mine,"  said  Roderick,  "to  let 
things  alone — I  don't  want  self-con- 
scious effects.  I  have  had  the  paint 
just  touched  up,  you  see — but  only 
so  as  to  bring  it  back  to  what  we  re- 
member; but  it's  going  to  be  an  ideal 
study — and  I  am  really  determined  to 
keep  it  for  myself  for  meditation  and 
repose.  We  are  never  going  to  have  any 
but  real  friends  here — people  who  can 
be  trusted  to  understand. " 

The  three  lunched  together,  took  one 
of  their  familiar  walks,  ::nd  after  dinner 
86 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


repaired  to  the  pavilion.  It  looked 
very  much  the  same,  except  that  there 
was  an  ample  fire  of  logs  on  the  hearth, 
and  that  the  room  was  lit  by  shaded 
candles  instead  of  the  old  oil-lamp. 

"Now!"  said  Roderick,  "for  once  it 
is  the  time  and  the  place  and  the  loved 
ones  all  together!  Just  fancy  bringing 
this  off!  Whatever  happens,  I  shall 
consider  that  fate  has  done  well  for  us, 
to  bring  us  together,  so  little  damaged 
on  the  whole,  after  nearly  thirty  years! 
The  ritual  is  all  laid  down  for  us  to- 
night. I  am  going  to  have  my  say, 
and  then  Fred,  and  then  Harry — and 
then  Harry  may  leave  the  room  if  he 
must,  but  I  hope  he  will  see  the  talk 
out  to-night  without  fear  of  disaster!" 

Knollys  smiled,  a  fine  serene  smile. 

87 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  don't  think  I  need 

turn  tail  now.    Dear  me !  how  often  have 

I  thought  since  of  how  I  marched  away, 

and  what  an  ass  I  felt — it  seemed  such 

an  absurd  demonstration!" 

"I    didn't    quite    understand    it,     I 

remember,"   said    Norman,    "but  now 
»> 

"Hush,  hush!"  said  Roderick,  "you 
shall  have  your  turn.     Well  now,"  he 

said — looking  round  at  the  others 

"here  I  am,  and  I  have  carried  out  my 
programme.  I  did  exactly  what  I 
meant  to  do;  I  wandered  about,  I  saw 
and  heard  and  felt  everything — and  it 
was  very  good!  I  came  home  and  I 
found  a  market  for  my  wares.  I  found 
people  perfectly  willing  to  listen  to  any- 
thing I  had  to  say,  aixd  I  have  been 
88 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

saying  the  same  things  ever  since  in 
different  ways.  I  married,  and  my  wife 
spoils  me  to  her  heart's  content  and 
mine.  I  wish  we  had  had  children,  but 
I  don't  know  that  I  should  have  been  at 
all  a  good  father,  and  I  expect  it's  better 
so.  And  I  am  rich,  and  I  don't  pretend 
not  to  like  that,  because  it  means  Hberty, 
and  I  can  do  exactly  what  I  like  best, 
without  giving  it  a  thought;  and  for 
each  and  all  of  these  things  I  am  abun- 
dantly grateful,  and  most  of  all  for 
absolutely  perfect  health.  I  don't  deny 
that  all  the  things  which  people  envy 
have  been  given  me,  and  I  have  enjoyed 
them,  and  tried  to  share  them  too.  And 
in  a  way — I  won't  pretend  otherwise — 
I'm  a  personage.  I  can  practically  know 
anyone  I  like,  and  people  listen  to  me, 

89 


The  Oychard  Pavilion 

and  treat  me  with  respect;  and  all  that 
is  undeniably  jolly.  And  yet  I  am 
prepared — I  think  I  may  say  this, 
though  one  never  knows — to  meet  calam- 
ities if  they  come.  I  haven't  had  them, 
I  haven't  suffered.  I  have  had  the  wine 
and  the  oil  and  the  perfume  as  well; 
but  I  believe  I  could  do  without  them 
and  not  be  unhappy.  Even  now,  I  am 
conscious  of  just  shading  off  a  little  into 
the  past.  The  young  men  don't  believe 
in  me,  and  I  expect  I  have  had  my  say. 
As  soon  as  I  get  an  Honorary  Degree, 
I  shall  feel  that  my  day  is  over. 

"But  I  think  just  as  I  did.  I  went 
out  to  look  for  beauty  and  I  have  found 
it  everywhere;  I  have  preached  it  for 
all  I  am  worth;  but  if  you  ask  me 
frankly  what  effect  I  have  had,  I  do 
90 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

not  think  I  have  had  any  effect  at  all. 
I  have  made  a  good  many  people  more 
comfortable,  and  I  get  hosts  of  letters 
which  tell  me  so.  But  I  do  not  think 
I  have  persuaded  anyone  to  believe  in 
my  doctrines,  except  the  people  who 
believed  them  already.  I  have  been  a 
court-preacher,  so  to  speak,  and  not  a 
prophet.  And  to  speak  candidly,  I 
think  I  have  been  too  comfortable.  If 
I  had  suffered,  or  agonised,  or  lost  any- 
thing, or  sacrificed  anything — and  if  I 
had  found,  in  spite  of  that,  that  I  could 
still  hold  on  to  beauty,  then  I  could  have 
done  something.  But  I  have  found 
myself  at  every  turn,  and  not  lost  myself. 
"And  yet  I  believe  that  I  am  right 
still,  and  that  beauty  can  be  wor- 
shipped; but   I   haven't   taken   enough 

91 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


out  of  myself!  I  have  always  been 
agreed  with  and  applauded— but  I'm 
not  spoilt,  because  I  am  quite  aware  of 
my  failure.  If  I  had  stuck  to  some  one 
big  piece  of  artistic  work,  put  my  whole 
soul  into  it  and  wrestled  with  it,  it 
would  have  been  different;  but  I  have 
always  kept  holiday,  and  sailed  before 
the  breeze.  And  yet  I  do  not  see  how 
it  could  have  been  otherwise;  beauty 
is  a  real,  strong,  noble  principle;  but  it 
goes  down  deeper  than  I  have  been  able 
to  go;  and  I  haven't  penetrated  to  the 
inner  soul  of  it — I  have  never  been 
inside  the  Holy  Place,  or  seen  the 
mysteries  celebrated.  And  yet  I  can 
see  the  real  thing  in  the  work  of  other 
men — Mind  you,  I  have  done  my  work 
conscientiously,  but  thrt  isn't  enough; 
92 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

it's  something  much  more  fierce  and 
sad  that  is  wanted.  And  so  I  have  been 
a  sort  of  sign-post,  pointing  somewhere, 
and  never  going  there  myself;  and  I 
think  I  would  give  all  my  success  for  a 
touch  of  the  divine  fire.  Art  is  as  serious 
as  death  for  some  people ;  and  it  walks  as 
old  Tennyson  says: 

'With  Death  and  Morning  on  the  silver 
horns.' 

But  I  have  been  like  the  maid  in  the 
same  poem, 

'Come  down,  O  maid,  from  yonder 
mountain  height ; 

What  pleasure  Hves  in  height  (the  shep- 
herd sang) , 

In  height  and  cold,  the  splendour  of 
the  hiUs  ? ' 

93 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


"So  you  see  where  I  am,  old  friends — ■ 
very  much  where  I  was  as  a  boy,  living 
in  the  pleasure  of  the  eye,  and  perhaps 
in  the  pride  of  hfe,  and  never  quite 
touching  the  inner  thing  at  all.  But 
I'm  happy— I  dare  to  say  that— though 
I  have  not  gone  out  at  the  further  door 
of  experience,  which  leads,  I  fancy,  on 
to  bleak  hills." 

His  musical  voice  stopped  suddenly, 
and  he  sat  gazing  at  the  fire. 

"There,"  he  said,  "that  is  my  story 
— and  the  wonder  to  me  is  that  I  seem 
to  be  yet  in  the  first  chapter!  Now, 
Fred,  off  you  go!" 

Norman  sat  upright  in  his  chair, 
with  a  half  smile,  holding  his  cigar 
between  his  fingers. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  will  do  my  best; 

94 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

but  my  school  of  eloquence  is  a  dry  one, 
you  know — Nisi  Prius!  The  time  has 
seemed  ver}''  short  to  me;  and  I  doubt 
if  I  have  done  more  than  knock  the 
bottom  out  of  most  of  my  old  theories. 
I'm  not  prepared  to  advance  a  theory. 
I  have  done  a  lot  of  work,  much  of  it 
very  useless,  I  think,  some  of  it  neces- 
sary. I  have  enjoyed  it — yes,  I  have 
enjoj^ed  it;  but  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
haven't  enjoyed  it  most  because  I 
haven't  had  time  to  think.  It's  a  hard 
and  tough  business,  life,  and  it  has 
caught  me  like  a  stream  and  whirled 
me  away,  and  I  have  just  had  to  swim. 
I  have  made  money,  but  I  have  had  very 
little  good  out  of  it.  I  have  had  hardly 
any  leisure,  and  I  expect  to  die  in  har- 
ness.    I  have  been  a  sort  of  servant,  I 

95 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

think,  obeying  orders,  and  just  keeping  a 
room  swept — and  I  suppose  that  it  has 
to  be  swept.  I  have  not  mide  friends — I 
am  not  curious  about  people ;  they  do  not 
seem  to  me  to  have,  as  a  rule,  any  clear 
ideas  about  anything.  I  had  my  one 
chance  of  looking  inside  life,  when  I 
married.  I  can't  say  very  much  about 
that,  because  in  losing  my  wife,  I  lost 
the  one  person  who  did  a  little  interpret 
life  for  me;  but  she  died  nearly  twenty 
years  ago,  and  I  have  got  used  to  loneli- 
ness; then  Violet  began  to  grow  up,  and 
I  begin  to  see  something  again  in  life 
that  is  worth  having.  I  don't  know 
what  it  is,  but  in  loving  her,  I  do  seem  to 
get  near  to  what  Roderick  called  the 
inner  soul.  I  think — I  can't  say  it 
clearly — that  there  is  something  moving 
96 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

behind  it  all  which  loves,  or  tries  to  love ; 
but  there  are  barriers  between,  and  it 
cannot  come  is  near  as  it  would.  When 
my  wife  died,  I  felt,  for  a  time,  that 
she  was  utterly  gone;  not  only  lost  to 
me,  but  vanished  into  nothingness.  I 
don't  feel  that  now.  I  think  there  is 
one  last  thing  behind  it  all — the  power 
of  going  on  caring.  I  don't  think  that 
any  other  part  of  me  will  last,  but  I 
believe  that  this  one  part  will.  No,  I'm 
not  even  sure  of  that ;  but  it's  the  nearest 
I  can  get  to  what  is  called  faith — that  it 
all  goes  on.  I  have  been  a  good  deal 
hammered  by  life,  but  I  am  not  afraid 
of  it,  and  I  do  not  think  very  much  of  it. 
It  isn't  beautiful,  it  isn't  noble — but  it 
has  got  just  that  one  ray  of  light  in  it — 
and  I  could  say  farewell  to  the  rest  of  it 

97 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


without  a  sigh — but  then,"  he  added, 
smiHng,  "I  suppose  my  sense  of   enjoy- 
ment is  rather  atrophied.     Art,  I  fear, 
bores  me  profoundly— it  seems  to  me 
a  kind  of  mild  pottering.    And  religion, 
as  it  presents  itself  to  me,  seems  like  a 
disputed  claim  to  a  peerage,  depending 
on    records    which    don't    exist.      But 
there's  something  there,   there's  some- 
thing!    Then,    too,— this   is   an   awful 
confession,    and    it    wouldn't    improve 
my   chances   of   legal   promotion   if   it 
were  repeated — but   I  don't  much  be- 
lieve   in  work!     It    maintains  what    is 
called   one's   self-respect,   but   I'm   not 
sure  that  it  is  worth  very  much,  when 
all  is  said  and  done.     I  think  I  have 
been  rather  extinguished  by  work,  but, 
like  Roderick,  I  don't  see  how  it  could 
98 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


have  been  otherwise;  yet  I  say  plainly 
that  I  do  believe  in  love;  at  least  I  think 
that  the  secret  is  hidden  there,  if  any- 
where ;  and  when  I  come  to  die,  I  believe 
that  that  is  what  Roderick  calls  the 
further  door  .  .  .  and  I  have  a  feeling 
that  the  hills  beyond  are  not  wholly 
bleak. "  He  stopped  for  an  instant,  and 
then  reverting  to  his  driest  manner,  he 
said  with  a  smile:  "There,  m'lud,  that's 
my  case!" 

Roderick  sat  lost  in  thought,  looking 
at  the  fire.  Knollys  smiled,  a  very 
beautiful  and  quiet  smile;  there  was  a 
long  silence. 


99 


VIII 

"Now,"  said  Roderick,  bestirring  him- 
self at  last,  "it's  your  turn,  Harry!  I 
very  much  want  to  hear  what  you  have 
to  say!" 

"Ah!"  said  Knollys,  "I  don't  know 
if  I  shall  find  the  words — it's  all  deeply 
interesting  to  me — I  can't  say  how 
interesting!  It's  wonderful  to  be  here 
again  together;  and  yet  I  was  rather 
afraid  of  coming,  you  know.  You  two 
fellows  are  such  swells,  and  have  gone 
sailing  ahead,  while  I  have  been  in 
a  very  quiet  backwater.  I  thought, 
coming  here,  that  I  should  feel  that — 
that   without   meaning   to   do   so,    you 

lOO 


The  OrcJiard  Pavilio7i 

would  each  of  you  make  me  realise  how 
homely  and  feeble  my  life  had  been. 
But,  do  you  know,  "—he  turned  from 
one  to  the  other  smiling,  as  he  spoke — 
" I  don't  feel  it  at  all;  because  the  things 
which  you  two  have  found — I  don't 
know  how  to  say  this  without  seeming 
critical — don't  seem  to  have  been  im- 
portant, somehow,  even  to  yourselves! 
Now  that  soimds  as  if  I  were  attempting 
to  triumph  over  you,  and  making  a 
pedestal  out  of  my  own  want  of  success, 
calling  it  unworldliness  or  other-worldli- 
ness  in  order  to  glorify  it.  I  thought  I 
should  probably  envy  you  your  successes 
— I  think  I  did  a  little  envy  them — but 
you  don't  seem  to  set  any  store  by  them 
yourselves;  the  most  you  have  said  for 
them  is  that  they  have  been   conven- 

lOI 


TJie  Orchard  Pavilion 

iences ;  and  you  are  neither  of  you  looking 
at  them,  it  seems  to  me,  but  through 
them,  at  something  else,  which  you  have 
not  yet  found. 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me  very  odd  that 
I  should  be  lecturing  two  famous  men; 
but  I  will  try  to  say  what  I  think.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  whole  point  of 
life  is  to  get  inside  life,  to  see  it  from 
the  inside.  I  have  got  something  further 
to  say  about  that  from  the  point  of 
view  of  religion,  but  I  will  leave  that 
for  the  present.  Still,  from  what  you 
have  said,  I  can't  help  feeling  that 
neither  of  you  has  exactly  got  inside 
life.  You,  Roderick,  seem  to  me  hardly 
to  have  changed  at  all;  it's  amazing  to 
me  how  little  you  have  changed — but  in 
the  old  days  you  alwayc  appeared  to  me 

102 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

to  be  holding  up  your  ideas  of  art  as  a 
kind  of  shield  against  Hfe,  and  you  seem 
to  have  gone  on  doing  that  all  these 
years,  and  life  has  never  got  inside  your 
guard.  I  admire  it,  in  a  way — but  I 
still  don't  think  you  are  wholly  to  be 
congratulated. 

"You,  Fred,  seem  to  me  to  have  got 
at  life  in  one  thing — in  your  marriage, 
and,  may  I  say  plainly,  in  the  loss  of 
your  wife.  But  even  you  have  done 
this  in  spite  of  Hfe,  and  not  by  means  of 
it.  Your  work  has  been  a  fortress  to 
you — of  course  you  have  seen  life — 
I  expect  you  know  more  about  men  and 
women  than  I  do — but  you  have  only 
seen  it — you  haven't  lived  it.  At  least 
I  don't  feel  sure  that  you  have;  and  I 
don't  think  you  feel  sure  either. 

103 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


"Well,  you  may  ask,  what  has  my 
life  been,  that  I  should  speak  so?  and 
I  answer,  it  has  been  life.  I  have  had  a 
home,  I  have  had  to  live  among  very 
simple  people,  I  have  seen  them  in 
health  and  happiness,  and  I  have  seen 
them  in  pain  and  perplexity — I  have 
had  to  help  them  along  as  well  as  I 
could.  Then  I  have  been  poor;  I  have 
had  to  contrive,  I  have  had  to  feel  that  I 
could  not  do  things  I  should  like  to  do — 
and  I  have  had  times,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  when  I  have  felt  utterly  flattened 
out  and  disheartened — it  has  seemed 
such  a  very  dingy  business!  But  it  has 
been  real  life,  because  it  has  often  not 
been  at  all  interesting,  indeed  as  dull  as 
ditch-water;  while  neither  of  you  have 
ever  known  what  it  is  to  be  dull;  but 
104 


The  Orchard  Pavilmi 


dullness  is  just  the  one  enemy  which 
most  people  have  to  fight!  When  I 
read  books  and  stories — I  haven't  much 
time  for  reading — I  often  find  myself 
wondering  why  it  has  all  got  to  be  made 
so  interesting  and  exciting;  it  isn't  in  the 
least  like  what  happens.  If  life  were 
exciting,  it  might  be  hard,  but  it 
wouldn't  be  humiliating;  but  it  isn't 
exciting — the  days,  weeks,  months, 
when  literally  nothing  happens — those 
are  the  times,  I  believe,  when  the  real 
battle  has  to  be  fought;  and  it's  all  the 
worse,  because  it  doesn't  seem  a  battle 
at  all ;  it  is  like  just  struggling  with  mud, 
what  the  Filgrim's  Progress  calls  the 
Slough  of  Despond;  there's  no  way  out, 
there's  nothing  alive  about  you,  within 
or  without — there  are  the  services  and 

105 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

the  school  and  the  visitings  and  the 
household  cares;  no  one  seems  to  want 
any  help,  and  you  haven't  anything  to 
give  them  if  they  did.  There's  a 
naughty  boy  to  speak  to  who  won't  see 
that  what  he  has  done  is  wrong,  and 
says  that  he  is  not  the  worst;  or  there's 
an  old  woman  dying,  who  suffers,  and 
can't  think  of  anything  but  her  pain; 
and  all  the  hopes  and  beliefs  which 
appear  so  glorious  and  so  obvious  to 
oneself  are  simply  nothing  to  either  of 
them. 

"But  then  religion  comes  in — and  I 
do  not  expect  you  to  sympathise  with 
this.  I  went  from  my  town  curacy, 
where  it  was  interesting  enough,  to 
help  my  father  who  was  old  and  ill; 
and  then  he  died,  and  they  all  wanted 
1 06 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


me  to  take  the  living;  and  though  I 
did  not  want  to,  there  were  overwhelm- 
ing reasons;  and  there  I  have  been  ever 
since.  Then  I  married,  and  the  children 
came. 

"All  the  while,  I  was  there  for  a 
certain  purpose.  I  came  away  from 
my  theological  college  full  of  notions; 
I  picked  them  up  like  a  pigeon  picking 
up  peas.  Well,  many  of  those  notions 
did  not  seem  to  fit  the  case — they  did 
not  seem  tools  for  me  to  work  with; 
and  though  I  do  not  deny  their  impor- 
tance for  a  moment — Church  tradition, 
Church  history,  development.  Biblical 
criticism — yet  I  began  to  see  that  they 
did  not  really  affect  the  problem,  be- 
cause they  were  outside  life  and  not 
inside  it.     I  think  my  creed  is  a  much 

107 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

simpler  one  now.  What  it  seems  I 
have  to  bring  home  to  my  people  is 
just  that  God  exists,  and  that  He  has 
a  purpose  full  of  love  to  every  soul; 
and  best  of  all,  that  the  Eternal  Son 
Himself  came  down  to  live  in  the  world 
He  loves,  to  redeem  it,  to  save  it;  and 
that  His  Holy  Spirit  still  moves  in  the 
world,  and  can  enter  into  the  hearts  of 
those  who  believe,  by  faith,  by  prayer, 
and  by  the  Sacrament  which  Christ 
ordained — old  well-known  phrases,  all 
of  them,  but  hiding  the  secret  of  all  life 
and  change.  And  so  I  came  to  see  that 
religion  was  just  a  life  and  a  hope,  and 
that  Christ  is  with  us  still,  if  we  can  be 
simple  enough  to  invite  Him  to  enter 
the  soul;  and  then  at  last  one  sees  that 
that  is  life — to  know  Him,  not  to  know 
1 08 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


about  Him — and  that  in  any  place  one 
may  not  only  bear  witness  to  Him,  but — 
may  I  say — introduce  Him,  make  Him 
known.  I  am  content  to  do  that — in- 
deed there  is  nothing  else  that  I  can  do ; 
and  the  meaning  of  life — I  dare  to  say 
this — has  become  clear  to  me;  it  is 
beauty,  Roderick,  and,  Fred,  it  is  love; 
but  it  is  something  more  than  that — it  is 
force  and  faith;  and  till  one  knows  and 
feels  that,  the  meaning  of  life  is  not 
clear."  He  stopped  for  an  instant,  and 
then  he  said :  "  I'm  not  trying  to  convert 
you,  as  it  is  called;  people  have  to  find 
their  own  way  to  that  knowledge,  and 
it  seems  so  far  from  being  either  splendid 
or  attractive — but  it  is  what  is  meant  by 
losing  oneself  to  find  oneself;  and  the 
secret  Hes  there." 

109 


The  Oychavd  Pavilion 

There  followed  a  short  silence;  and 
then  Roderick  said:  "Ah,  old  boy,  you 
have  outshot  us  both!  Yes,  you  have 
indeed  been  to  a  far  country,  and  seen 
things  which  I  have  not  seen !  I  should 
have  argued  with  you  in  old  days,  but 
I'm  not  inclined  to  do  that  now.  I 
don't  doubt  what  you  have  said,  and  it 
seems  to  me  beautiful — and  something 
more  than  beautiful — it's  real  enough! 
But  I'm  going  to  ask  you  two  questions. 
If  I  grant,  for  the  moment,  that  what 
you  say  is  true,  does  it  mean,  do  you 
think,  that  one  who  like  myself  is  living 
among  sights  and  sounds  and  ideas 
which  seem  to  leave  no  room  for  any- 
thing else,  they  are  so  full  of  life  and 
beauty,  does  it  mean,  I  ask,  that  I  am 
but  wasting  my  time  in  an  ante-chamber 
IIO 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

— that  I  shall  have  to  turn  my  back  on 
all  this?  Because  the  difficulty  seems 
to  me  that  your  theory,  big  and  vigor- 
ous as  it  is,  has  a  tendency  to  starve  life. 
It's  fine,  it's  austere — but  it  isn't  rich! 
If  you  have  to  distinguish,  let  me  say, 
between  good  and  evil,  do  you  think 
that  all  these  exquisite  qualities,  which 
I  see  so  acutely,  are  of  the  nature  of 
evil — wandering  fires  to  distract  one 
from  the  path?  Isn't  that  the  mistake 
of  Puritanism,  that  it  shuts  the  eyes  to 
what  is  after  all  the  work  of  what  I  will 
call  God's  hand?" 

Knollys  bent  forward.  "No,  in- 
deed," he  said,  "I'm  not  a  Puritan.  I 
will  go  further  and  say  that  the  saint, 
as  I  understand  a  saint,  above  all  things 
enjoys.     He  is  the  person  who  enjoys 

III 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

life  most,  because  he  has  not  to  be 
always  selecting.  Shall  I  dare  to  say 
that  the  saint  is  a  sort  of  artist  in 
morals — the  fineness  and  the  ugliness 
of  it  is  for  ever  present  to  him.  Don't 
suppose  that  I  am  calling  myself  a 
saint — that  is  quite  beyond  me — but 
he  is  much  more  interested  in  life  than 
other  men,  because  the  values  are 
always  present,  everywhere,  in  the 
stupidest  man,  the  most  foolish  woman, 
the  smallest  child.  No  one  can  escape 
from  handling  life,  and  making  choices, 
and  using  the  will;  but  you  artists  seem 
to  sweep  so  much  of  it  away  as  common 
rubbish.  I  think  your  senses  are  too 
strong  for  you,  too  insistent — so  that 
you  don't  see  the  moral  quality  in  life." 
"That's  a  good  answer!"  said  Fred. 

112 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Roderick,  "but  I  have 
a  further  question.  If  I  grant  that  the 
saint  has  really  a  richer  view  of  life — 
and  I  see  that  he  may  be  more  in  touch 
with  it  than  the  artist — what  is  God 
about,  if  I  may  use  such  a  phrase,  by 
making  all  the  finer  developments  of 
humanity,  the  intellect,  the  observation, 
the  humour,  the  artistic  sense,  such  that 
they  cloud  the  simple  truth?  He  seems 
to  be  making  man  on  the  one  hand  more 
complex  and  critical;  and  every  step 
in  that  direction  makes  it  harder  for  a 
man  to  submit  himself  to  the  sort  of 
belief  you  have  outlined.  If  the  truth  is 
so  utterly  important  and  so  unmistak- 
able, it  should  be  easier  and  not  harder 
for  the  more  finely-bred  man  to  appre- 
hend it?" 

8  113 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Ah!"  said  Knollys,  "there  I  admit 
you  are  beyond  me.  I  quite  see  that 
the  greatest  human  gifts,  and  the  things 
which  dazzle  men's  minds  most,  do  seem 
to  make  it  harder  for  them  to  perceive 
the  truth,  as  I  hold  it.  But  I  fall  back 
on  a  democratic  idea !  Side  by  side  with 
this  fineness  of  development  of  which 
you  speak,  which  is  confined  to  a  very 
small  and  fortunate  minority,  the  vast 
mass  of  humanity  are  beginning  to 
perceive,  to  ask  questions,  to  assert 
their  rights,  to  claim  liberty.  Men  are 
more  and  more  equalised,  and  the  sort 
of  leisure  and  opportunities  which  you 
have  enjoyed  seem  likely  to  become 
more  and  more  impossible.  I  am  not 
sure,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "that  you 
cannot  be  neglected!  I  do  not  beheve, 
114 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


I  fear,  in  the  intellectual  side  of  religion, 
and  still  less  in  the  aesthetic  side,  but 
what  I  believe  is  growing  up  in  the  world 
is  the  sense  that  to  deal  with  life  at  all, 
and  life,  I  mean,  lived  on  very  common 
lines,  a  real  sense  of  its  significance  is 
needed — and  though  I  agree  that  the 
sense  of  beauty  is  a  little  bit  of  experi- 
ence, I  feel  that  experience  is  a  bigger 
thing  than  that,  and  that  it  has  got  to 
be  dealt  with  spiritually — that  is,  with  a 
faith  that  God  has  a  plan  from  which 
the  dullest  and  coarsest  are  not  shut 
out ;  and  that  in  the  sense  of  His  Father- 
hood and  man's  brotherhood  the  solu- 
tion must  be  found.  Religion  simply 
means  that  to  me — Baptism,  which  is 
the  symbol  of  the  cleansing  of  evil,  is 
the  sign  of  Fatherhood.    The  Sacrament, 

115 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


which  is  the  symbol  of  unity  of  life,  is 
the  sign  of  Brotherhood.  I  do  not 
believe  that  there  is  much  else  which 
matters.  Records  and  tradition  just 
testify  to  continuity;  it's  the  moral 
force  in  the  world  which  is  God;  and  it 
grows  ...  it  grows!" 

"You  are  a  good  advocate!"  said 
Fred,  smiling.  "But  I  have  a  further 
question  to  put,  which  you  will  see  is 
born  out  of  my  experience.  What  if 
your  life  has  been  such — and  mine  has 
been  such — as  to  make  you,  instead  of 
desiring  brotherhood  with  men,  only 
eager  to  separate  yourself  from  a  type 
which  seems  so  full  of  the  basest  selfish- 
ness, vile  trickery,  the  desire  to  plunder 
and  exploit  the  world?  That  is  what 
the  law-court  teaches  you — to  mistrust 
ii6 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

everyone,  to  believe  everything  possible 
of  anyone;  and  if  that  falls  to  bits, 
the  Fatherhood  of  God  goes  with  it — 
it  makes  one  feel — I  am  not  speaking 
profanely — as  if  God  were  indifferent, 
careless,  ineffective." 

"Well,"  said  Knollys,  smiling,  "are 
you  not  perhaps  in  the  position  of  the 
doctor  who  is  tempted  to  believe  that 
all  the  world  is  ill?  That  is  what  I 
mean  by  not  seeing  life  from  the  inside 
— you  only  see  the  scum  and  foam  of 
it.  I  myself  believe  more  in  human 
nature  every  year  I  live — I  see  it  sweet 
and  humble  and  kind,  and  full  of  infinite 
possibilities.  It  isn't  always  obvious, 
I  grant.  People  can't  express  what  is 
in  them;  every  sort  of  prejudice  and 
ugly  habit  and  selfishness  gets  encrusted 

117 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

round  the  soul.  But  again  and  again  I 
have  come  at  last  to  the  innermost 
essence — and  I  can  only  say  that  I 
have  seen  it  to  be,  as  a  rule,  very  child- 
like and  innocent  and  true — not  far 
from  the  Kingdom  of  God.  It's  only 
a  fancy,  no  doubt,"  he  added,  "but  I 
have  sometimes  felt  that  in  losing  our 
body,  with  all  its  inheritances  and  fears 
and  habits,  we  might  find  that  what  is 
left  is  infinitely  clear  and  guileless  and 
loving.  You  see  I  have  watched  many 
people  die — and  at  the  last  flicker,  when 
the  world  is  already  almost  out  of  sight, 
I  have  generally  seen  something  very 
pure  awake.  The  last  look  is  almost 
always  a  look  of  love — and  if  that  is 
left,  does  anything  else  matter?" 

"I  think  not, "  said  Pred  very  gravely. 
Ii8 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


"Yes,   I  am  glad  to  have  heard  that 
said. " 

"Well,"  said  Roderick,  rising  and 
smiling  at  his  friends,  "the  play  is 
almost  played  out,  I  think.  It's  new 
to  me,  Harry,  to  have  all  this  cleariy 
said — it's  the  sort  of  thing  that  I  have 
missed  hearing!  But  I  will  say  this, 
that  you  make  me  feel  both  stupid  and 
unperceptive ;  you  have  given  me  much 
to  think  about.  I'm  incurably  frivol- 
ous, I  know — but  I  seem  to  have  come 
to  the  edge  of  something  to-night,  and 
to  be  looking  over.  A  great  thing 
seems  to  have  escaped  me — and  it 
somehow  appears  that  Fred  has  more 
idea  of  it  than  I  have;  but  it  won't  be 
lost  on  me,  it  won't  indeed!" 

119 


IX 


They  all  went  to  church  the  following 
morning.  There  was  a  larger  congrega- 
tion than  usual,  as  it  was  known  that 
Knollys  was  to  preach.  Roderick  found 
the  whole  thing  very  delightful.  It 
was  a  fine  old  solid  church,  not  much 
restored;  the  flooring  was  uneven,  the 
old  pews  leaned  at  pleasant  angles;  the 
walls  showed  stains  of  weather,  and 
there  was  an  odd  brightly-painted 
Jacobean  monument  in  the  chancel, 
on  which  the  in-streaming  sun  fell 
very  quaintly.  Roderick  liked  the  holi- 
day air  of  the  congregation,  and  the 
loud    artless    music    which    was    sung. 

120 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

He  admired  the  look  of  Knollys  in  his 
surplice  and  hood,  and  the  expression 
of  his  face,  very  still  and  gentle,  and  as 
if  self,  he  thought,  had  somehow  passed 
out  of  it. 

Knollys  preached,  very  simply  in- 
deed, without  any  notes,  from  a  text 
from  Job — ''That  which  I  see  not,  teach 
Thou  me."  It  was  a  sermon  not  ad- 
dressed, as  Roderick  thought  it  would 
have  been,  to  himself  and  Norman,  but 
directly  to  the  congregation;  and  there 
was  something  truly  pastoral  in  the 
way  in  which  Knollys  faced  the  people, 
looking  hither  and  thither,  without  any 
self -consciousness  at  all.  He  said  that 
one  of  the  greatest  difficulties  with 
which  Christians  had  to  deal  was  the 
tolerance    with    which    they    regarded 

121 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


their  own  characters,  which  was  quite 
different  from  the  way  in  which  they 
saw  and  marked  the  faults  of  others. 
"  We  make, "  he  said,  ''every  allowance  jor 
ourselves,  because  we  know  our  own 
difficulties  and  temptations.''''  But  the 
result  of  this,  he  said,  was  that  many  of 
our  faults  quite  escaped  us.  ''We  are 
quick-tempered,  and  excuse  it  by  saying 
that  we  say  frankly  what  we  think;  or  we 
are  sullen,  and  pretend  to  ourselves  that  we 
restrain  our  outbreaks  oj  temper;  and  so 
it  comes  about  that  most  other  people 
know  what  our  faults  are  more  truly  than 
we  know  ourselves;  while  we  take  refuge 
in  thinking  that  we  are  well-intentioned 
people,  and  that  God  will  not  be  hard  on  us. 
"And  indeed,  dear  friends,''  he  said, 
"God  will  not  be  hard  on  us;  He  lets 

122 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

us  go  our  own  way,  perhaps  for  many 
years,  because  He  means  us  to  find  the 
way  for  ourselves  to  His  Heart;  He  does 
not  want  a  timid  obedience,  though  He 
would  rather  have  that  than  a  timid  dis- 
obedience; but  what  He  really  desires  is 
a  trustful  love.  Our  troubles  and  suffer- 
ings— we  cannot  do  without  them — are 
really  invitations  to  us  to  trust  Him;  and 
you  may  take  my  word  for  it,  that  I  have 
known  many  people  who  have  found  their 
way  to  Him  through  trouble,  but  hardly 
any  who  have  found  the  way  through 
prosperity!  And  the  one  and  only  test 
of  our  nearness  to  God  is  the  way  in  which 
we  feel  about  other  people.  We  are  all 
moving  together,  a  glad  and  a  sorrowful 
company,  to  a  life  the  greatness  of  which 
we  can  hardly  even  guess.    As  long  as  we 

123 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

are  just  busied  with  our  own  designs, 
anxious  to  get  as  much  happiness  as  we 
can,  using  other  people  to  increase  our 
happiness,  we  are  hardly  looking  to  God  at 
all;  and  the  best  reason  for  wanting  to  get 
rid  of  our  faults  is  that  they  are  the  things 
which  keep  other  people  away  from  us, 
make  them  fear  us  and  avoid  us.  For  the 
moment  we  begin  to  care  about  other 
people,  we  are  different.  There  is  no 
better  way  of  making  a  friend  than  by 
allowing  another  to  do  us  a  kindness;  and 
there  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of  being  kind 
to  those  we  love. 

''But  then  some  of  you  may  say:  '/ 
am  not  naturally  kind;  I  do  not  natur- 
ally like  other  people;  and  as  for  loving 
God,  I  do  not  even  know  how  to  begin. 
He  is  so  far  away,  He  lUows  such  dread- 
124 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


Jul  things  to  happen,  He  has  so  many 
rules  and  commandments  which  we  want 
to  break,  how  can  we  know  Him,  how  can 
we  please  Him?'" 

He  stopped,  and  looked  down  the 
church  with  a  smile. 

''Yes,''  he  said,  ''that  is  the  old  diffi- 
culty and  the  great  difficulty — that  He 
demands  our  love,  and  will  not  show  His 
face  to  us,  that  we  may  love  Him,  as  we 
certainly  shoidd,  if  we  coidd  hut  behold 
Him.  But  He  is  there — we  none  of  us 
doubt  that;  and  whatever  our  lives  may 
be.  He  is  trying  to  show  us  in  a  hundred 
ways,  that  He  needs  our  love;  He  cannot 
do  without  that,  and  He  waits  till  we  can 
give  it,  till  we  have  leisure  to  turn  from 
all  the  little  cares  which  so  fill  our  minds 
and  hearts,  and  to  find  Him  behind  them 

125 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

all  and  above  them  all.  Look  there,''''  he 
said,  pointing  to  the  east  window  of 
the  church,  ''what  do  you  see  there? 
Christ  upon  the  Cross,  dying  alone  and 
in  failure.  That  is  the  answer!  That 
is  how  God  comes  to  meet  us,  to  show  that 
there  is  no  human  suffering  which  He 
would  not  bear.  It  is  there  that  the  worst 
that  man  can  do,  and  the  best  that  God 
can  do,  join  hands. " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  with  an 
uncontrollable  emotion.  Then  he  re- 
sumed: '"That  which  I  see  not,  teach 
Thou  me.''  The  King  in  His  beauty,  the 
land  that  is  very  far  off,  that  is  what  we 
desire  to  see,  and  what  we  shall  see,  the 
moment  we  are  worthy  of  it.  Our  doubts^ 
our  fears,  our  troubles,  are  all  of  them 
simply  proofs  that  we  are  looking  for 
126 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

something  beyond  them,  and  that  we  can- 
not find  God  in  them. 

"So  that  is  my  simple  message  to  you 
to-day.  It  is  nearly  thirty  years  since 
I  have  been  in  this  church.  I  was  just 
beginning  then,  as  a  young  man,  in  much 
pride  and  carelessness,  to  see  that  I  could 
not  do  without  God;  and,  praised  be  His 
Name,  I  have  been  finding  my  way  to 
Him  ever  since;  and  if  I  coidd  but  tell 
you  the  glory  and  joy  of  that,  you  would 
not  doubt  my  words.  I  am  not  telling 
you  to  do  anything  difficult,  anything 
which  the  youngest  child  cannot  do;  and 
if  you  once  begin  to  do  it,  you  will  find 
all  the  things  that  vex  and  distress  and 
alarm  you,  begin  quietly  to  vanish  away; 
and  the  love  of  God  will  rise  in  your 
hearts,  as  the  flower  blooms  in  the  spring. 

127 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

Only  practise  trusting  Him,  putting  your 
hand  in  His,  as  a  child  on  a  dark  night 
puts  its  hand  in  the  hand  of  its  mother; 
live  in  His  presence,  recognise  His  love! 
Do  not  be  afraid  that  He  will  not  make 
allowances  for  you,  or  that  He  will  try 
your  strength  overmuch.  The  journey 
may  be  long  and  weary,  but  He  will  bring 
you  home  to  Himself  at  last. " 

It  was  simple  enough,  but  Roderick 
felt  a  strange  peacefulness  shed  abroad 
by  the  words,  delivered  as  they  were 
with  a  directness  of  conviction  which 
made  an  intense  appeal.  There  was 
no  shadow  of  doubt  that  Knollys  was 
speaking  out  of  a  real  depth  of  experi- 
ence, the  quality  of  which  Roderick 
fslt  himself  quite  unable  to  criticise. 

He  walked  home  with  Norman; 
128 


TJie  Orchard  Pavilion 

Knollys  had  said  that  they  were  not 
to  wait  for  him,  as  he  was  going  to  the 
Vicarage. 

"That  was  very  wonderful,  I  think," 
said  Roderick  lightly.  "Dear  old  boy, 
how  splendid  he  looked!  Now  there's 
a  life  behind  that,"  he  added,  "which 
is  quite  different  from  what  I  expected 
of  Harry!  I  thought  I  should  find 
myself  disagreeing  with  everything  that 
he  said,  and  quarrelling  with  all  his 
assumptions — but  he  did  not  make  any 
assumptions  at  all!  It's  a  fine  handling 
of  life  that!  It  has  the  true  artistic 
quality!" 

"He's    got    a    case,"    said    Norman 

rather   grimly;    "he   has   certainly   got 

a  case — that  is  the  sort  of  thing  that 

would    tell    with    a   jury!     Come,"    he 

»  129 


*> 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

added,  "that's  a  base  criticism!  I 
must  honestly  admit  that  I  haven't 
been  in  a  church  for  years,  but  if  I 
could  hear  that  sort  of  religion  preached, 
I  would  go.  Don't  you  see,  Roderick," 
he  added,  "that  this  is  the  real  thing — 
the  thing  we  all  want!  You  say  he 
made  no  assumptions — I  admit  they 
did  not  sound  like  assumptions — but 
he  made  one  all  through,  and  that  was 
his  idea  of  God.  There's  the  eternal 
difficulty.  But  I  must  add  this.  Most 
parsons  used  to  seem  to  me  in  the  old 
days  to  preach  as  if  they  were  trying 
to  persuade  themselves  that  what  they 
said  was  true.  But  Harry  has  seen 
something — he  has  got  hold  of  some- 
thing which  you  and  I  have  missed. 
It  isn't  a  question  oi  proofs  and  argu- 
130 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


ments.  It  may  not  be  exactly  what  he 
thinks  it  to  be;  and  I  daresay  that  if 
we  discussed  it  all,  he  would  say  a  dozen 
things  I  should  think  were  very  bad 
evidence.  But  he  has  touched  some 
force  or  other — there's  no  excuse  for 
doubting  that.  It's  as  clear  to  me  that 
his  love  of  God  is  as  real  a  thing  as — 
well,  as  my  love  for  Violet.  It's  as 
definite  a  thing  as  that;  and  I  simply 
feel  for  once  in  my  life,  that  I  have  no 
business  to  call  it  imagination.  A  man 
can't  make  himself  believe  a  thing  like 
that.  I  don't  doubt  that  there  is  some- 
thing which  he  sees,  as  clearly  as  you 
see  what  you  call  beauty;  and  I'm 
somewhat  bewildered,  because  it  isn't 
visible  to  me.  I  don't  pretend  I  am 
going   to   look   for   it — my   habits   and 

131 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

views  are  too  much  fixed  for  that — but, 
good  Heavens,  suppose  that  it,  or  some- 
thing Hke  it,  is  really  there  all  the 
time!" 

"It  isn't  inconceivable  to  me,"  said 
Roderick;  "it's  an  artistic  perception 
of  moral  values,  I  believe.  I  don't 
deny  it  has  interested  me — and  it  was 
certainly  beautiful!" 


132 


X 


They  sat  again  in  the  pavilion  that 
evening.  They  had  strolled  and  talked 
all  the  afternoon,  and  all  three  felt  a 
little  tired.  It  had  been  a  curious 
strain,  after  all,  the  reunion ! 

As  they  sat  smoking,  Roderick  said: 
"Harry,  we  won't  discuss  your  sermon 
— though  I  intended  to;  but  Fred  and 
I  have  spoken  about  it,  and  we  are  in- 
terested, and  more  than  interested." 

"I  fear  I  was  very  dull!"  said  Harry. 
"I  seemed  unable  to  think  of  anything, 
and  just  said  what  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  my  mind,  you  know.  I  can't  prove 
these  things;  I  just  seem  to  know  them." 

133 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 

"Yes,"  said  Fred,  "I  felt  that;  and 
you  must  let  me  say  one  thing,  Harry, 
I  didn't  expect  to  agree  with  you,  and 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  do  agree  with  you 
— but  I  felt  like  a  blind  man  listening 
to  a  description  of  colours  from  a  man 
with  eyes.  My  difficulty  is  simply  this 
— why,  if  that  is  the  one  fact  in  the 
world — and  it  obviously  is  to  you — are 
we  not  all  shown  it,  not  necessarily 
clearly,  but  beyond  the  power  of  doubt?" 

"Ah!"  said  Harry,  "I  can't  answer 
that.  It  seems  to  me  as  clear  as  that  I 
am  alive.  You  want  proofs,  you  think 
perhaps  that  I  make  assumptions.  But 
so  do  you!  We  each  of  us  assume  that 
the  other  exists.  We  can't  prove  it; 
and  yet  nothing  which  you  call  proof 
can  begin  at  all  till  we  have  both  of  us 

134 


The  Orchard  Pavilion 


made  that  assumption.  It  is  true  that 
I  go  further  and  assume  God.  God  and 
the  soul — I  am  not  sure  of  anything 
else;  but  I  can't  show  you  what  I  think 
I  see;  and  I  have  a  feeling  too  that  you 
see  it,  though  you  call  it  by  a  different 
name — and  then  both  you  and  Roderick 
have  been  very  busy,  and  that  makes  it 
harder,  I  suppose. " 

"Well,"  said  Roderick,  "we  will  not 
talk  any  more  about  that  now.  I  am 
tired  of  weighing  and  valuing  things! 
Let  us  just  be  glad  that  something  has 
brought  us  three  together  again  in  the 
dear  old  place!  I  am  sure  that  fact 
alone  ought  to  prove  anything  and 
everything.  It's  strange  and  beautiful, 
and  I  will  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  it 
seems   affectionate!     That   has   got   to 

135 


The  Orchayd  Pavilion 

be  enough.  I  have  a  very  real  sense  of 
gratitude  about  me  to-night,  and  I  am 
wilHng  to  allow  that  I  have  been  hand- 
somely used.  My  cup  is  as  full  as  it  can 
hold;  and  even  if  it  is  dashed  to  pieces 
in  my  hands,  I  would  still  be  thankful 
for  my  invitation  to  the  feast  of  life,  and 
say  that  I  had  been  royally  entertained.  " 

"And  I  too,"  said  Norman,  "I  don't 
complain ;  I  have  had  a  fine  time,  and  I 
know  it!" 

"That's  good,"  said  Knollys,  smiling. 
"But  perhaps  I  don't  think  it  all  so 
wonderful  as  you  two!  You  see,  I  ex- 
pect wonders  to  happen;  that's  my 
trade!  and  will  you  think  it  very  tire- 
some if  I  quote  a  text,  and  say  that  we 
shall  see  greater  things  than  these!" 

136 


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